


Inamorato

by atriums



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Dark, Demons, Genderbending, M/M, Minor drug abuse, Occult, Psychological, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural - Freeform, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atriums/pseuds/atriums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Until Death do us part</i> – a farce; for true love, Death is only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to take a moment to give my beta Chloe a huge thank you for volunteering to beta-read this fic! I didn't think it would ever get finished despite my many attempts at beginning and beginning again. She has been awesome, and I owe her a lot for listening to me babble and helping me figure out a lot of things. I originally wanted to wait until this fic was finished before I started posting it (I'm just under 16k now), but you can thank yoochunforehead@LJ for ~~threatening my tentacles~~ pestering me. 8D
> 
> Don't forget to heed the warnings!

  


It was morning, and unlike the crisp late autumn air he was used to tasting on the tip of his tongue, Yunho tasted sorrow instead. It was bitter like a virulent poison – a steady trickle down the back of his throat and into his sickened stomach. The unease was not something to which he was well-adjusted, and so he found himself trying in vain to chase it away, but as Yunho took in the greying skies and the dismal earth, all he saw was the reflection of sorrow as it settled on the chilled air. 

On Sundays Yunho didn’t have any classes, so he resorted to heading to a nearby coffee shop to study or enjoy the day as it began. A hot chocolate and a muffin always put him in a good mood, so much so that it had become a weekly ritual. Some days he would just relax and enjoy good conversation, while others he would squeeze in a bit of studying. Luckily for him all of his final exams had been the week prior, and so he began with a cleaned slate.

But still, the ill foreboding feeling in his gut did not relent. Later in the morning the skies released a light drizzle that painted the world in monochrome, exhausting and dreary. Enjoying the last gulp of the now cold chocolate beverage, Yunho remembered his best friend and how the enigmatic man was probably enjoying the weather. He was a strange one, but always brilliant and lovely like the sun. 

At least, until recently.

Yunho had not seen Jaejoong in a good 3 weeks, but he didn’t let it bother him since both were busy with classes. Jaejoong was terribly preoccupied with his dissertation for his religious studies, while Yunho had exams for his psychology major. The last time they were together, Jaejoong had been in a strange stupor as he buried himself in his research. Then, Yunho had thought nothing of it, but now the memory made his stomach clench in fear.

Yunho tried to brush off the feeling, wondering if he’d eaten something bad for dinner. Leftover pizza probably was not the best choice, but it was the easiest and the cheapest so he couldn’t help himself. It was time for him to go home and clean up the mess of dirty laundry, however, the second he stepped outside the quaint café, his phone went off and Yunho found himself with an earful of a sobbing woman whose voice he could barely understand.

“Minjung?” Yunho asked, holding the phone away from his ear so the piercing screams didn’t make him go deaf. It didn’t help the crippling fear he felt twisting at his insides. “Minjungie, you need to calm down. I can’t understand you...”

Kim Minjung, one of Jaejoong’s many siblings, did not often call Yunho’s phone. Everyone in the Kim family had Yunho’s phone number merely as a second way to contact Jaejoong since the two of them were so oft together, but judging by the sounds of Minjung’s hysterical sobs and indecipherable mutterings, something awful had happened. Yunho felt it in his gut. He’d felt it all morning.

It took him a couple of minutes before the woman could speak lucidly, and by that time Yunho was already half way back to his apartment. 

She sobbed and hiccupped, “Jaejoong c-committed suicide. Hyunjoong found his b-body this morning.”

Yunho’s phone shattered on the ground.

*

_Dearest Mother, Father, all of my precious siblings, and My Yunho:_

_Do not worry your hearts out for me. This is not goodbye, but rather..._

_See You Later._

*

The Kim family was one of a kind. 

Yunho had met their much beloved youngest when they were young, just after Yunho’s twelfth birthday. His family had just moved from the countryside to a nice posh housing district in Seoul when he had quite literally run into the other boy as he chased the old family dog down the sidewalk. Jaejoong had not been angry, but rather excited, and from the moment their eyes met they had an inexplicable bond that had kept them together for over ten years. 

Kim Jaejoong was one of the youngest children adopted by an elderly Christian couple, a Kim Jongkook, Preacher at the local church, and Kim MiJin. Yunho didn’t know much but he knew they were unable to have children of their own, which lead to them adopting as many children as they did. Jaejoong was not the last one they adopted, but he was the youngest and Yunho thought he was the one that shined the brightest. He’d been four years old when he was adopted, sobbing as he passed from his biological mother’s arms (who was sad not to give her son away, but sad because she could not love him the way he needed and deserved to be) to Kim Minyoung’s open arms. 

In the many years Yunho had been acquainted with the family, he knew they were just as picture perfect as they looked. His family was as large as it was wealthy and flowing with love and acceptance. The Kims, all eleven of them, had the biggest hearts Yunho had ever known.

And yet, on this sorrowful day, to know that the most beloved of them all had taken his life shook the very foundations of the entire family. 

Pastor Jongkook sat with his distraught wife in the family room when Yunho arrived, and though he should not have been, he was shocked to see all eight of the remaining children huddled amongst each other. There was Kim Minjung, barely a year older than Jaejoong, who looked ashen and unkempt like she’d just woken up and hadn’t the time to shower or wash her face when news of the tragedy struck. 

Kim Hyunjoong was beside her, curled up in her embrace as his face was stained with his rife agony. He was absolutely torn apart by what he had seen that morning, not expecting it in the least. All he wanted to do was use the toilet and take a shower, but instead he had found his little brother collapsed on the floor. 

Jaejoong’s skin had been so pale it was a sickening shade of grey, and he had been so, so cold to the touch. Panic had trapped Hyunjoong’s breath in his throat as he hesitantly touched Jaejoong’s bare shoulder, then he had shaken him and rolled him over until he’d screamed and screamed. 

“He knew exactly what he was doing,” one of the policemen said as they zipped his body and loaded it into the ambulance. Jaejoong’s recipe for suicide had been placed meticulously out in front of him, various poisonous plants and medications no one knew how he had gotten access to. 

Yunho thought he was going to be sick as he took a seat opposite the grief-stricken family. Jaejoong had been the closest friend he’d ever had, his other half, and Yunho didn’t know what he’d do without the man’s light shining in his life anymore.

Police came and went, and Yunho had somehow been roped into being asked a few questions. He told them everything he knew, starting from when he’d first met Jaejoong as young boys, then to his beginning as a major in religious studies and philosophy. He wanted to follow his father’s footsteps, Jaejoong told him once. Both of them had been so close to graduation, and Jaejoong had been working studiously on his dissertation. It was around this time that he’d begun to act a bit different, had become withdrawn, and Yunho felt so damn stupid for not trying to talk to Jaejoong about it. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho found himself apologizing to the family, heart heavy with sorrow and regret. This might not have happened if only he had –

“Don’t blame yourself,” Pastor Kim said, a sympathetic hand resting upon Yunho’s right shoulder. His hand was warm, his gaze kind, but there were lines of troubled suffering adding years to his face. “Not a single one of us knew of his troubles. There is no use dwelling on the past, on what we could have done... Accepting this and moving forward is the best we can do right now.” 

The man squeezed Yunho’s shoulder one last time, eyes glassy with tears, as he returned to his family. The gesture shocked him, a sort of dismissal that left a strange sensation clawing at his insides. Of course Yunho was the outsider here, the one that did not belong to this family.

With a heavy heart and a low murmur he wasn’t even sure the grieving family heard, Yunho departed from the home that, without Jaejoong, was just foreign and unfamiliar.

*

Jaejoong’s funeral came and went, the skies dark and ominous and the wind fierce and chilled against Yunho’s blushing cheeks. He wore his best outfit, a cheap suit ironed into crisp neatness that somehow matched the somber atmosphere amongst grieving friends and family. Pastor Kim sang eulogies of praise and hymns of sanctimonious blessings to his son’s soul, and he shared with everyone all of the beautiful memories his son had helped create. Some of his teary-eyed daughters had taken to the podium to say a few words about their beloved lost sibling, one of them choking up and wailing before she could even get a word out. 

It was impossible to not cry. Whilst Yunho squared his shoulders and tried to remain strong as he clasped his hands in front of him, he found it difficult to manufacture a remotely calm facade as he stared at Jaejoong’s picture resting along a floral arrangement behind his casket. Kim Jaejoong, who was brilliant and lovely in ways that reminded Yunho of the sun – the same sun that had been in hiding – whose untimely departure from life left a hole in the hearts of many that would never be filled quite the same way again. 

Once again, Yunho felt like an outsider spectating from a distance. This man had been his best friend, his other half, and yet there was just something about the way Jaejoong’s family huddled together in an embrace that spoke _Go Away_. 

Yunho left before they actually buried him. 

*

_Summer was Yunho’s favorite season of the year, right before the rainy season when the air was warm and thick with humidity, but the sun shone bright and it gave everything around him life. Often he and Jaejoong would enjoy walks along the Han River, discussing life and laughing over something silly that had happened in one of their classes._

_Despite being in completely different majors, the two of them still managed to find common ground and they bonded in ways Yunho swore he felt to his soul. The feeling that he dared not put a name to, in fear of ruining the simplicity and beauty of it, summoned a smile every time he thought of the fair-haired man beside him._

_“We should go bowling tonight,” Yunho said as he licked along the dripping edge of his cone. “Heechul and Leeteuk invited us along.”_

_“Sounds like a plan,” Jaejoong smiled, and birds twittered, flowers bloomed, and the sun’s halo danced off his hair._

_Yunho’s heart lurched in his chest and he found himself smiling in return. He was a fool unable to deny his best friend anything if he asked._

_And he would have it no other way._

*

One morning Yunho woke up and he felt different, like something had been moved from its place and he could not find it. Like something had been _stolen_ from him, but it was an odd sort of feeling that he couldn’t quite place. 

He ignored it.

Yunho attended his classes on autopilot, taking notes and writing papers without any real thought. A teacher, a classmate, and a friend had all commented on his lack of attentiveness but he brushed it off as if a fly had buzzed too close. By the time he had returned from his dazed stupor, he hadn’t a single clue what he had been doing but was unable to find it in himself to give a damn. 

On the way back toward his apartment, Yunho ran into none other than Jaejoong’s brother, Hyunjoong. The man looked colorful and lively despite his recent tragedy, and he was laughing with a group of friends. His arm had curled possessively around a pretty little thing’s narrow waist, and every so often he would bend down to whisper in her ear or kiss her cheek. They all looked happy, and he, in love. 

“Oh, hey Yunho!” Hyunjoong waved. 

“Hey.” Yunho waved back as he wandered casually to his side. Of everyone in Jaejoong’s massive family, Hyunjoong was probably the only other sibling to which he would consider himself close. That still wasn’t saying much.

“We’re going to celebrate tonight,” someone to the left of Hyunjoong said, someone Yunho recognized as his best friend Kyujong. 

“Celebrate?” Yunho balked, though he tried not to show it. What the hell were they celebrating? Was he the only one still grieving the loss of his best friend? 

“Yeah, Hyunjoong and Hwangbo are _finally_ together after weeks of dancing around each other.” Kyujong’s excitement was palpable, as if he was happy for his friend. There would be no more anguished whispers of a perceived unrequited love, no more muted pleas for her to look his way, just this once.

“Oh.” 

Yunho was stupefied. This man had just discovered his brother’s dead body almost two weeks ago, and now he was already moving on? Of all the Kim’s family, Jaejoong and Hyunjoong had been the closest both because of their ages and because they were the last two to be adopted. They were also both the only two that had been adopted late enough to remember their biological parents. While Jaejoong’s mother had chosen to give him up and had his best interests at heart, Hyunjoong’s parents had died in a terrible car accident and no other blood relatives would accept him in their home. It was tragic really, their stories, but they had that one thing in common and it had created a bond between them. It was the closest imitation of the water of the womb they would ever experience. 

And Hyunjoong, in all of his wayward sense of humor and beneath his “cool” persona, had a big heart hidden within him. Yunho was not willing to compare his own grief to Hyunjoong’s, to the very same brother that had discovered Jaejoong’s suicide. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjoong frowned at the man before him, fingers clenching around the cotton of Hwangbo’s shirt around her waist.

“No,” Yunho admitted. “I’m still trying to cope with Jaejoong’s...death.” 

Hyunjoong didn’t say a word, but his brows furrowed and his lips pressed together into a thin line. Yunho would have assumed that he was suppressing the horrible memories of what he’d stumbled upon that morning. But as the seconds ticked by, the more confused Hyunjoong appeared, and the more unsettled Yunho felt. 

“Jaejoong?” Hyunjoong echoed after a long, quiet moment of pondering. “Who is that?” 

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as thousands of words grouped together in his mind, things he could say but also the things he couldn’t. He wanted to give Hyunjoong the benefit of the doubt, but who in their right mind would deal with tragedy by suppressing it to the darkest corners of their minds? Certainly not Hyunjoong, not anyone in the Kim family. They had been raised better than that.

Yunho’s stomach churned and lurched, trying to crawl up his throat as Hyunjoong’s question replayed over and over again. He contemplated sitting down with him and telling him that denying Jaejoong’s existence wouldn’t make dealing with the pain of his suicide any easier, but at the same time, something within him held back. It was a rock in his gut, holding his tongue down and his body in place. 

“I...” Hesitating, Yunho spared the group one more incredulous glance. “Nevermind,” he muttered. 

Everyone handled grief in their own ways, and though Yunho wasn’t sure he himself was handling it at all, he knew it would be wrong of him to criticize Hyunjoong’s own questionable methods. 

As Yunho walked away from them, he felt his stomach crawling up his throat and his blood chilled in his veins. He felt every last palpitation of his heart through his entire being, slow but powerful as if it would explode from his chest. It was a feeling that made his throat go dry, his palms clammy and hands shaking like quivering leaves in a storm. 

There was something so, so wrong. 

*

That night Yunho dreamt in monochrome. He dreamt of darkness as it surrounded him, paradoxically as cold as it was warm, his very being warring between the two stark contrasts. But there was a familiarity in the way the darkness loomed over him, stood by his side, and seemed to smile down upon him. He felt his heart flooding his being with warmth as a wisp of that eerie blackness flickered like flames, beckoning it from the depth of his soul.

Curiosity was only natural. He reached out for the strange wisps and found it slipped through his fingers like lukewarm water, and his hand was even wet as he pulled away. Confusion settled in his chest as the strange water-flame settled on the obscured ground and rippled with each breath Yunho took. 

Taking a step back, Yunho was shocked to discover it was _everywhere_. The black water had overcome him, clogged his senses and trapped him in its depths. Breath escaped him, and when he opened his mouth to scream, it rushed down his throat and filled his lungs before his throat convulsed with a sad effort at swallowing it all first. The first gulp burned in his throat, burned all the way down to his stomach, but he didn’t have time to think or even wince as he kept swallowing until he knew it was all in vain. 

 

In the morning, Yunho awoke with a migraine and a stuffy head, the dream fading with the last vestiges of sleep in the back of his mind. When he rolled over and attempted to sit up, the world around him spun and he found himself somehow on the other side of the bed instead.

It was a fitful time trying to right himself despite his distorted equilibrium, and when he was finally able to stand, making it into the bathroom to pop a couple of Tylenol was an entirely new challenge. He leaned against the wall, hands leading him around corners and keeping him upright. He could barely think straight around the intense pounding and jack-hammering in his skull, but somehow he managed. 

Yunho fought with the bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, catching his seemingly gaunt and sleepless self’s reflection from the corner of his eyes. He swallowed two pills dry just before his legs gave out on him and he slid down the wall, eyes closed and limbs like lead. 

Yunho must have sat there for twenty minutes, just long enough for the medicine to affect him. His head cleared, he could feel his toes again, and the migraine receded. He waited a several moments longer before he dared to stand again, to trust his body, before returning to his bedroom. It was cold and stuffy in his room. He turned off the air conditioner before crawling underneath the sheets again, agony rushing through his bloodstream as he imagined the smiling face of his now dead best friend. 

On a normal day he’d probably text Jaejoong, tell him that he felt awful, and Jaejoong would be here to suffuse him in his motherly affections. Jaejoong would overreact adorably, would fuss and make him lie in bed as he prepared a hearty breakfast for him...

Oh how much he wanted that right now...

But never again.

_Why, Jaejoong? Why did you do it?_

Yunho closed his eyes as he remembered the last time he saw Jaejoong with the healthy flush of life. Though he had been withdrawn and not all that like himself, he had been _alive_ and everything had been okay even if it wasn’t. Even if Jaejoong had been pulling away from everyone and everything, even if Jaejoong had been disgruntled about being forced to visit his family over the weekend.

Even if –

_How long were you planning this for, Jaejoong?_

Jaejoong’s autopsy report told Yunho and his family nothing that they didn’t already know. He’d been steadily drugging himself for a while, and how Yunho had failed to not notice any illness was beyond him. ( _But you couldn’t have,_ a voice whispered to him. _You couldn’t have because you didn’t see him when he was sick._ ) The final straw was a fatal dose of something they referred to as the suicide tree, a plant that was well known for its toxins and was infamous for its use throughout history as the drug of choice when it came to assassinating people. It was so easy to slip into someone’s food unnoticed.

Before Yunho knew it, his face was hot and burning with excess of tears. The Jaejoong he’d known and loved for year would have never done this. There was no rhyme or reason to it. The Jaejoong he knew was a man that loved life, was the very embodiment of all things he considered bright and lovely, and all he did was want to help others. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a man of the Church, to serve God and spread His word and love to those without it.

The strangest idea occurred to Yunho. He jumped from the comfort and warmth of his bed, pulled on a pair of dirty jeans and dug out a clean t-shirt, and ran out the door. It was a random whim, one he wasn’t sure he should be entertaining, but he couldn’t help it as his body seemed to be moving of its own accord. (That, and he dared not stop himself.) 

In almost an hour, Yunho was standing before his best friend’s old dorm room. His heart beat wildly in his chest like a drum, body hesitating as he raised his fist to knock. Why was he doing this? Jaejoong was dead. The only thing he was about to do was make a fool out of himself. He was at Jaejoong’s old dorm, ready to knock as if he expected Jaejoong to open it with bright smiles and sunshine like the past several weeks had never happened.

Instead, what he got was an eyeful of a naked man. 

He was a little on the short side, just a couple of inches below Yunho’s own staggering height of 6’1”, and his body was lean and thin and had the barest hints of muscular definition beneath his dark skin. The man stopped and blinked at Yunho, shock rooting him firmly in his place.

“You’re not...” 

He wasn’t Jaejoong. 

It had only been a couple of weeks and they’d already moved someone else into the dorm. 

How could they?

“I’m sorry.” 

Yunho ran. 

* 

Summer came to a sweltering, bittersweet end and brought with it the musk of autumn and the chill of impending winter. With finals upon him, he hadn’t the time to work past his grief. He was still just as hurt as he’d been since the day he found out, his chest ripped apart with the sheer agony being the only thing he felt. University was a welcome distraction, one that filled his mind with stress and worry and knowledge until he forgot about everything else.

The scent of books and their printed pages kept him company when he slept, sometimes in bed, and other times bent awkwardly at his kitchen table where he’d been studying. The end was so close, so near to him he could taste it.

It tasted sour – _spoiled_.

It must have been well after midnight when Yunho paused to stretch, to stand up and get the blood pumping through his veins again. He thought about calling it a night and going to bed, but as his back popped, with it came the memory of smiles and sunshine that made raw his agony once again.

Jaejoong’s memory was a vicious assailant, pushing him down and holding tight. Yunho knew it was unhealthy the way he could not cope with his best friend’s loss, but he also knew that he had to allow himself the necessary time to grieve. Time he didn’t have. The longer he let it go on, the tighter the specter of Jaejoong’s memories would hold on, the deeper it would dig its claws until it would become a part of him.

Yunho couldn’t live like this. It would drive him insane. Slowly, but surely. Little by little as it screwed into his skin and penetrated his bones... 

In the living room there was a portrait placed precariously along a shelf of other knick-knacks, seemingly useless things that Yunho’s mother had insisted upon when he first got the apartment. She said it looked nice and attracted eyes and gave a good impression to guests. In that picture frame was a photo years old, probably from the beginning of high school when he and Jaejoong had known each other for only a couple of years and they were getting closer every day. Yunho remembered Jaejoong’s ridiculously long hair in that picture, the way he posed and how he stuck out his tongue. Yunho remembered laughing so hard at his best friend that he’d thrown his arm over Jaejoong’s shoulder and given him a noogie, telling him how weird he was and thinking about how much he loved that about Jaejoong.

Yet when Yunho looked at the picture frame, he only saw himself. He saw himself standing off to the side with a silly grin, limbs too long and hair looking like he’d stuck his finger in a socket. Yunho used to have the worst trouble trying to get his hair to stay down as a teenager, static electricity loved him too much to let go. 

Yunho’s throat constricted and closed in on itself as he realized _Jaejoong had disappeared from their photo._ The very same photo his mother had taken just because she’d gotten herself a fancy new digital camera and she wanted to try it out, but the three of them had been strangely enamored with the image that they’d gotten it printed and framed. 

Jaejoong was fucking _gone._

Yunho sank to his knees as he was overwhelmed with a torrential mass of emotions. Fear. Anxiety. Confusion. Jaejoong had been dead for a couple of months and everything was so _different._

“No. No, no, no...”

Yunho didn’t sleep easy that night, dreaming of darkness once again. He woke up as bile crawled up his throat, and almost didn’t make it to the toilet in time. He puked until he was dry-heaving and it hurt.

It was going to be a bad day.

* 

Later Yunho almost literally ran into Kim Hyunjoong, who had been awfully close and cloyingly affectionate with his new girlfriend by the South Hall. 

“Hey,” Hyunjoong said, and Yunho replied with a meager whisper. He still felt terrible from his morning wake-up call and nothing he tried seem to soothe his queasy stomach. 

“You look terrible,” Hyunjoong added none too helpfully, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a poor semblance of a smile. Yunho was aware of his terrible appearance as he had had very little time to himself, just enough to comb his fingers through his wild hair (which didn’t do much to begin with anyway) and pick a shirt and a pair of jeans off the bedroom floor to wear. There hadn’t been enough time to even see if they were clean or not.

Yunho knew he looked like a hot mess but giving a damn about it was beyond him at this point. He felt like shit. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjoong asked again, lips pressed in a thin line. Yunho recognized the concern and felt his stomach lurch, felt himself yearning with the need to just _talk_.

No, he was not okay.

“Do you have a minute?” Yunho asked in a low voice, gaze flitting toward Hwangbo. The other man also looked to his girlfriend, and they shared a meaningful look before she departed.

“What do you need?” 

“I need to be completely serious,” Yunho started, slowly, hesitantly, because admitting this to himself, let alone out loud to Hyunjoong, was about to open a can of worms he wasn’t sure he was ready to face yet. “I can’t...” 

“Can’t what, Yunho? What’s going on?” Hyunjoong’s concern gave Yunho the last courage he needed to let the words spill forth from his lips. It was so easy for the whole family to accept the death of their youngest and dearest when they all had faith, belief in God and Heaven and that everything was going to be okay. Belief that death was just the true beginning of the afterlife, _real_ life. Yunho remembered Pastor Kim’s heartfelt sermon and couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by his profound sadness and grief.

Yunho didn’t have that faith. Yunho didn’t know whether he believed in God or not, whether or not he believed there was life after death. 

“I’m not okay, Hyunjoong... I’m having a really hard time dealing with Jaejoong’s death...” 

Hyunjoong’s brows furrowed as he frowned again. “Hey, look, everyone goes through loss at some point in their lives and sometimes it’s hard. This Jaejoong, he was important to you right?” 

_This Jaejoong, he was important to you right?_

Yunho rubbed a hand over his stomach to quell the torrential squall of sickness as it threatened to erupt and overwhelm him. 

“Why are you talking like you don’t know him...?” Yunho whispered his incredulous question. 

Hyunjoong gave him a look, a dark look, a confused look. “Because I don’t, Yunho. I don’t know who this Jaejoong person is and I don’t know why you keep expecting me to.” 

“Because he was your brother!” Yunho exploded. “You mean to tell me that you found his dead body and you’re just going to pretend he never existed? I thought _I_ was handling it bad, but it seems like you need some help.” 

A few passers-by glanced between the two men at Yunho’s outburst, but they moved on without a second glance. Every second passed by, thick and terse and filled with electricity as their emotions filled the space between them. Hyunjoong squared his shoulders, jaw tense and posture straight as he attempted to tower over Yunho, but that intimidation tactic was hard when Hyunjoong was a couple of inches shorter. 

“I know you’re studying psychology, Yunho, but I think you’re the one with the problems,” he began, voice low and dark and angry. “I never had a brother named Jaejoong. I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about. I think _you_ are the one with some serious issues here and you need to have your noggin looked at before you start taking it out on other people. You’re lucky that I’m a nice enough person to tell you this before I tell you to fuck off. 

“Have – a – nice – day.” Hyunjoong ended his tirade by punctuating the ordinarily pleasant phrase with all of his displeasure, his anger, at Yunho, before turning on his heels and disappearing into the steady throng of college students. Those words carried with them a note of finality, the feeling that whatever friendship could have existed between them was no longer possible. 

Yunho was stunned. Of all people, he had never expected this from Hyunjoong. He had never expected that Hyunjoong would be so merciless to him, still locked tight in denial and unable to free himself. Unwilling to accept the kind hand of others.

And yet, Hyunjoong’s words had managed to put that awful thread of doubt into the back of his mind. 

*

_A noxious plume of smoke permeated the air between the two boys, spinning into abstract shapes before fading into dusk. Yunho found the smell nauseating at best, deplorable otherwise. His stomach curled as he spared his best friend a look of stark disapproval._

_“That stuff is disgusting, how the hell can you stand it?” Yunho asked._

_Jaejoong, smiling through a mouthful of a filter, inhaled before answering, “It makes me feel good.”_

_“It makes you stink,” Yunho shot back. “It kills your lungs and your tastebuds and your everything else, and it_ stinks _.”_

_A chuckle spilled from Jaejoong’s mouth as he walked ahead of his best friend, shaking his head. It wasn’t a big deal, really, and why the hell did Yunho have to sound like such a goody two shoes about it?_

_“If it’s really so bad for us, why is it still legal? Why do so many people do it?” Jaejoong asked, inhaling another virulent plume._

_Yunho made a face as he put some distance between them._

_“Because there are chemicals in it that your body becomes addicted to, and that dependency is what keeps things the way they are,” he bit out, spiteful as he kicked a stone across the street._

_The two of them were just a couple of seventeen year old teenagers walking around the street at night, thankful for the secluded location of their gated housing community. The whole area was rife with the scent of money but it was nice and it had privacy reminiscent of the days Yunho had spent growing up in Gwangju._

_“Wanna try?” Jaejoong offered the cigarette to Yunho, his lips quirked upward._

_“No,” Yunho said, but he snatched it from Jaejoong’s fingers anyway and inhaled as much smoke as he could._

_And it burned. It burned from his tongue to his chest and his whole body wracked with coughs as his body forcefully expelled the unwanted chemicals from it. He could barely breathe, eyes watering and throat convulsing as he gagged and dry-heaved._

_“Are you okay?” Jaejoong’s face swam into focus and then out again as tears spilled over. He yanked the still-burning cigarette from Yunho’s fingers and stomped it out on the street, wiping the tears from Yunho’s eyes as he cooed to soothe his irritated lungs._

_When Yunho’s coughing fit began to calm down, he could hear Jaejoong in near hysterics above him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I won’t ever do it again I didn’t know, it just looked cool and I – ”_

_“Good,” Yunho rasped, pushing his best friend away. “If you ever smoke again I will kick your ass. This sucks.”_

_“Are you gonna be okay?” Jaejoong frowned, a hand rubbing up and down the broad slope of Yunho's back._

_Yunho took a deep breath of clean, crisp air and revelled in its sweetness. “Only if you promise me you really won’t ever smoke again.”_

_“Deal.” Jaejoong’s lips twisted upward in a cynical smile as he reached into his pocket and tossed the entire pack of cigarettes into a nearby trash bin. His best friend was right, they were gross and that was not something he wanted to waste the rest of his life on._

_“Now we’re both gonna be okay,” Yunho laughed. “And we’ll live long, prosperous lives together.”_

_“Double deal.”_

*

It was, by far, not the most intelligent ideas that Yunho had ever had, but he felt it was the right thing to do. He felt it was necessary to do. Clutched in his hand he held his mobile phone, a familiar phone number glaring back at him from the touch screen surface. He hesitated, uncertainties holding him back, but when he remembered his confrontation with Hyunjoong he knew he had to do it.

Pressing the green call button, Yunho waited with baited breath as he tried to figure out what to say. Was it even his place to say anything? He wondered, doubted again, but by the time the Pastor’s docile wife had answered the phone, he knew he couldn’t go back.

“Yunho?” the woman greeted familiarly, without the warmth he was accustomed to, but instead filled with a confusion that chilled him.

He was intruding, and though he refused to acknowledge it yet, he could feel it in his bones.

“Do you have a few moments?” Yunho asked as he began pacing the length of his living room. He listened to the woman shuffle in the background before she spoke into the line again, and Yunho just let it all out.

He told her about his angst, his troubles, and his fears. He told her about Hyunjoong, about how worried he was for the other man at his stark denials, his refusal to accept Jaejoong’s death in the way he pretended he’d never been alive.

“Yunho?” Mrs. Kim’s tone stopped him dead in his tracks, and a lump of dread settled in his throat. “Yunho, honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who Jaejoong is and I can tell you I never adopted a son by that name. Hyunjoongie was the last one.”

Yunho nearly choked as a rush of hot tears stained his cheeks. Was this really happening? Was the whole family denying Jaejoong’s existence? _Or was he going insane?_

“MiJin – ” Yunho gasped.

“Yunho, are you okay? Are you _really_ okay? You were always such a quiet boy in church and your parents were always worried about you. You know we’re always willing to help, but I can’t help you when you’re not making any sense...” 

Why did they say that Yunho was the one that didn’t make sense when it was really them? Why were they denying the existence of their own son? What was it about Jaejoong and his death that was so easy to push away like it had never happened? 

Yunho didn’t understand, and he needed to. He needed to understand this madness.

“MiJin – ”

Mrs. Kim scolded, “Yunho don’t be so impolite – ”

“This is not okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t okay. He was your son. He may not have been your flesh and blood but Jaejoong was your _son_ and when he smiled he could light up a whole room. Now he’s dead and you’re all pretending he doesn’t exist? Why would you do such a thing?” Yunho’s tirade trailed off into an incredulous whisper at the end, his heart burning from within his chest as he thought about the bright-eyed man that was his other half, that he feared he would not be able to live without only to realize these fears were truth. 

Kim MiJin cleared her breath, and that’s when he heard the sudden chill in her voice, “Yunho, I pray God helps you because there is something awfully wrong with you right now. If this is all you have to say, please don’t call my home or speak to anyone of us again.”

She hung up on him.

Kim MiJin actually hung up on him.

Yunho remembered the photo and Jaejoong’s disappearance from it and felt sick.

“ _No_...”

*

Yunho spent his winter break studying for the final semester of college and, against his better ideas, decided it would be best to see a therapist after all. She was a thin woman with strict, stern features but kind eyes that softened the years of her face. She was nice, and she listened, which was all Yunho really needed at this point. He needed someone to listen to him and believe him, someone to reassure him that he wasn’t going insane.

Yet a part of him believed that he was, bit by bit. Slowly, but surely. It was a thought in the back of his mind, one that drifted to and fro with his every breath. 

_You’re going to lose your mind. Why else would you only remember a dead person no one else does?_

It wasn’t a conspiracy theory. 

It wasn’t a horror movie.

Jung Yunho really did fear that he might be going insane because he was the only person who remembered Jaejoong.

The strange thing was, however, that Yunho did not reveal this thought to his therapist. He told her of his aching grief, the agony that arose in his bosom at the mere thought of his best friend who had long since been lost for life. She listened. She was sympathetic. She _cared_.

That was all Yunho needed to know he wasn’t going crazy.

_(But you really are, aren’t you?)_

*

Despite having seen a therapist and gaining some pretty good tips on how to deal with grief, Yunho just couldn’t. There was no way he would be able to accept the death of his best friend, of one of his most beloved people that he had never been able to see his life without. Jaejoong was like the sun, guiding him through the day to day ventures of life. Without him, Yunho’s world was dark and he couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. 

He needed his sunlight again. 

Before Yunho knew it, he was a college graduate and Jaejoong’s death was over a year into the past. The worst part was graduation day was on the one year anniversary to the date that Jaejoong’s body was discovered on his bathroom floor, and as valedictorian of his class, he made sure he gave a heartfelt speech about his best friend that ripped open the wound in his chest anew. 

By the time he walked off stage his eyes burned, his throat was closing in on itself, and he swore he could feel the hot blood pulsing out of his broken heart, down his chest and all over his cap and gown.

It hurt so much, so fucking much Yunho thought if there was every any perfect moment to lose his sanity, it would be this one, right here in front of hundreds of people all with their eyes on him. 

In the back, Yunho locked himself into a bathroom stall and curled up by the toilet before he allowed himself the freedom to cry. He’d been doing so, so good and now the only thing he knew was pain. The only thing he saw was Jaejoong’s eyes, Jaejoong’s smile, and if Yunho took a breath deep enough, he swore he could scent his signature Bvlgari musk that had been a present from his dearest brother, Heechul.

The Kims no longer talked to him, nor did they dare to spare him any glances when they happened to be near each other in public. It hurt to think the family he had once known so well had become this, all because of the death of their youngest. 

That night Yunho went home and he lost himself. His sorrows drowned him as he cried and cried, as he threw the nearest object he could reach and screamed out his agony. He heard something shatter on the floor but didn’t think twice about it as he sunk to his knees, tears blurring his vision and soaking his face, his torso forced to the ground by the weight of his pain.

“Why?” Yunho whimpered. “Why, why, why?” 

_Why did you leave me Jaejoong?_

_Why didn’t you share your burden instead of taking your own life so cruelly?_

_Did it hurt? Did you regret it in your last moments?_

Before Yunho knew it, he was lucid again and could see himself holding a glass shard tightly between his fingers. The sharpened edges dug into his skin and hurt, a thin rivulet of blood dripping slowly onto the dark carpeted floor beneath him. 

In that moment, Yunho considered taking his own life to be with his best friend.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Something held him back, like a phantom murmur in the back of his mind that reminded him too much of the life that Jaejoong had once had. The life that Yunho would now have to live for him.

That night, he threw himself onto his bed and did not rest easy.

*

Yunho was not a person that tended to remember his dreams. On average he forgot them, the last strange remnants disappearing into a forgotten abyss somewhere as he fought against the last vestiges of sleep. There were times, however, when he had particularly vivid dreams and could remember parts of them. Or he could remember that he’d had a dream and how vivid it had been, but details would always elude him.

 _This_ , on the other hand, was going to be a dream he would remember from start to finish.

This dream would start with a whisper, soft and sweet against the shell of his ear. It would start with a low hum and the tickle of hair brushing against his back and his left arm, caressing him in waves with firm hands over his shoulders.

It would start with a woman, naked, as she rested upon him. He could feel the heat of her body as she sat with her knees on either side of his hips, body dipping low as her hands glided from his lower back and up to his shoulders with a constant, firm pressure. Every worry, every thought – gone.

“Feel good?” she asked, hands caressing the rising slope of Yunho’s ass. A hot wave of lust tore through him, potent and heady as her nails ran up and down his back. 

“Feels nice,” Yunho hummed, turning on his side so he could face her.

What he saw should have made his heart stop in his chest, but instead made something in his gut tighten as another wave of heat crashed over him. 

She was beautiful, lithe with a narrow waist, small, but supple breasts and pale skin. Dark curls fell over her shoulders in silken waves, framing a fey face with an all too familiar coquettish smile and wide eyes. Unlike what he was used to seeing, broad shoulders and a firm jaw, Yunho saw soft curves and a pointed chin. 

He could feel himself twitch and watched her smile grow in return, body curving into an arc as she threw her head back and moaned _with Jaejoong’s face_ , hips rolling as she let out a quiet moan.

There was no way this was not a dream.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” _Jae_ asked, her voice a low guttural purr that had him twitching again. (Yunho couldn’t bring himself to call this beautiful dream girl Jaejoong, he just could not, but fuck she looked so much like him.) It was almost embarrassing how much his body responded to the sight of a beautiful woman in his lap and ready for the taking.

Jae leaned down, tongue peeking from between her plush lips, and let the soft swell of her breasts drag against Yunho’s chest, pulling with it a potent bout of lust that possessed him so fiercely he nearly lost himself.

_She has Jaejoong’s face._

Damp heat settled at the hollow of Yunho’s throat as Jae licked a thick stripe up his neck, along the angle of his jaw, and finally settling at the corner of his mouth. Her lips twitched before she pressed against him for a kiss and it was sweet and hot and he _melted_ in her arms. 

She murmured against Yunho’s mouth, whispering sweet nothings to him as he finally let himself give in to the one thing he had always wanted. Large hands followed the curves of her body, outlining every last dip and curve and spreading warmth between them. She kissed him again, this time her tongue dipping inside of his mouth for a taste, to tease. Yunho knew he was helpless to her whims as he gave in, his hands curling in her thick hair at the base of her neck.

Jae shifted, rubbing against him before she reached down, fingers grasping him tight as he slipped into her molten depths. It was slick and hot and tight around him, pulsing with every smooth roll of her hips above him. 

She whimpered, eyes closed and head thrown back as her hips settle into a pattern of rise and fall, pleasure ebbing and flowing from her body and into his. At this point Yunho had completely lost himself, entranced by the familiar thickness of her mouth as her tongue swept out, teeth digging into the lower lip. Her nose, her cheekbones, her eyes – everything about her, was Jaejoong, and Yunho didn’t understand nor did he want to. 

He just wanted to feel.

He just wanted to love and be loved. 

Their bodies moved together in a beautiful harmony, his hips rolling up as hers dropped down and back again. The strain in her thighs became evident after several long, beautiful moments of pleasure, and Yunho was astounded by the need to share as much with her as he could. He pulled her down until they were chest to chest, the swell of her breasts tempting him until he distracted himself by pulling at her hair again. Her head jerked back, eyes closed again as she let out a sinful, dirty sound that made his dick hard as a rock inside of her. She laid there above him, her hips rolling in small waves as he took the lead of their carnal embrace, cheek pressed against Yunho’s as her hot, gasping breaths sound next to his ear. 

“Please,” she begged, a hand sliding between their sweaty bodies to rub against her clit. Yunho flipped them over, pressing her down on her back as he slid right back inside her depths with a harsh thrust. She nearly screamed, body jolted from the force alone as her fingers worked fast to bring her the bliss she so desperately sought.

Yunho could feel his orgasm building up inside of his belly, a pressure, light at first, then growing in intensity with every slide back into her that pulled bit by bit of his sanity away from him. 

_She has Jaejoong’s face._

Eyes closed, Yunho took a moment to remember his friend and found it much too easy to picture Jaejoong and his hard, solid body instead of this soft and curvy feminine one. It was that thought – an instant he swore he actually saw it – he last remembered when pleasure blinded him as his orgasm swept him away with a torrential force. His hips stuttered, whole body going still as he rode wave after wave of his orgasm with a short, shallow thrust into her pliant body. 

Beneath him, she whispered soothingly as her fingers ran up and down his back, lips tracing the echo of his heartbeat in his throat. With each pulse of his release into her, Yunho felt himself growing weaker and weaker still, eyes half-lid with exhaustion. He tried to pull away from her, but her legs around his waist held him in place. 

"Sshhh," she murmured. "You're okay, you've done so well, baby. Better than I thought you would..."

Everything went dark. 

*

Yunho woke up to the uncomfortable sensation of dried come on his stomach and the incessant blaring of his alarm clock. Still half asleep, he jumped out of bed and slammed his fist on the annoying thing.

Except the sound did not stop, and Yunho had to fight against the temptation of darkness again as he peeled open his eyes and rubbed away the last grains of sleep. There was something off about the air around him, a disconcerting quality that had him speculating his surroundings with suspicion. 

Nothing felt right anymore. And it didn’t help that he felt like he hadn’t slept a wink last night.

That dream, though. Oh, that dream.... 

Yunho was no stranger to wet dreams, having gone through a vicious and embarrassing cycle when he was in his early teenage years. He’d hated leaving messes in his bed that he would try to hide as he cleaned up the next morning, avoiding suspicious looks from his mother and his little sister as he swam in a pool of shame. He couldn’t stand how that experience had left him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, like things in his life were completely out of control. This feeling was no different, though he had long since made his peace with it.

Now it was just a minor irritant. 

Still, looking back on his years as a teenager, Yunho had never had a wet dream that vivid before. Hell, he’d _never_ had a dream that he’d remembered with such startling clarity, ever. 

As crazy as it sounded, he found himself deeply unsettled by it. Something just wasn’t right. It was too real, too vivid, and he couldn’t help the way his stomach curled when he thought that the object of his nocturnal affections had been none other than a twistedly beautiful, and very female, Jaejoong. Yunho had no doubts his friend would have looked exactly like that should he have been born a woman, beautiful and lithe and soft. If Jaejoong had any sin, it was the sin of vanity. He loved himself too much, focused too much on his appearance and had a complicated night and morning ritual with a cream for this and a cream for that included. 

When they were teenagers, Jaejoong had gone through a slight rebellious streak that had his hair growing just a little past his shoulders. It had a natural wave to it, not completely straight, and the female in his dream had had hair that went to the small of her back in gentle curls, as if she had braided her hair when it was wet and let it dry before taking it out. 

In his twenty-three years of life, Yunho had dated and had multiple relationships, none of which ever became serious. He’d never had sex with any of them because it had never been something he was interested in, and yet the thought of his attraction to the feminine Jaejoong had his body singing a dirge in the name of lust, and with it came a frightening thought that settled too easy into his skin. As if he’d known it all along, and now it was time to finally admit it out loud.

Yunho had loved Jaejoong. With every last fiber of his being.

Jaejoong had been the other half to Yunho’s whole, the one person whom Yunho could not see his life continuing peacefully without. Now that Jaejoong was really and truly gone, Yunho’s life was still held together but only by threadbare seams, seams he continually refortified whenever a single one snapped before the others could follow. On the inside, Yunho was a mess. A disaster. 

And he loved Jaejoong.

The most terrifying thing of all about this was that Yunho knew his unrequitted and unacknowledged love was the sole reason for his suffering. But now that he knew, now that he had accepted the truth into his heart, it hurt even more to think about Jaejoong.

There were a lot of things in life that Yunho had not yet given much thought to, and rather unfortunately, this was one of them. He knew what the majority of his friends and his family thought about such things, even all of society as was meticulously drilled into their brains since youth, but he had not given himself the time to work out his own personal opinion.

Dread coiled in Yunho’s stomach as he wondered if this made him a sick man, a horrible person. He wondered if this meant he needed help. He wondered if this meant his family, his friends, everyone he’d ever known, would leave him. He wondered if they might stay by his side.

But most of all, he wondered what _it_ meant. 

_Love_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind. _It means love._


	2. 2

Later that day Yunho found himself doing something ridiculous, something he should have thought of doing over a year ago when Jaejoong’s dramatic metamorphosis began. It was so stupid he’d had to call off work at his part time job, but it was something he needed to do. He could feel it in his gut, like a low pull that beckoned him toward the sprawling library of books. 

He’d spent his afternoon lying in bed, overcoming his lethargy as he recounted the last several weeks that Jaejoong was alive. With him he had carried a book, an old leather-bound thing with thick pages yellowed with age and elegant, hand-written penmanship. 

_Draco Maledicte_ had been printed on the cover in faded golden text. 

It was the very same book that Jaejoong had his nose buried in for for days at a time as he researched his thesis on demonology. 

Nervousness overwhelmed Yunho as he approached the librarian, an old withering man with bifocals and a clean shaven face. 

“Can I help you?” Mr. Goh – as revealed by his nameplate – politely greeted.

“Do you have an available online repository of all books contained in this library?” Yunho asked, offering what he hoped was a bright, beckoning smile.

“Yes,” the old man said. “We can search for title, genre, and the like.”

Smothering a wave of nausea as it rose in his throat, Yunho nervously cracked his knuckles before he spoke. “I’m looking for a non-fiction book, religious. I believe it was written in the Latin alphabet and was called _Draco Maledicte_.” Though Yunho was no professional at English, he was able enough to spell it out for the man as he typed it into the system, pecking one key at a time.

Yunho watched Mr. Goh for several long minutes as he stared at the computer screen, watched the way his facial expressions changed as he clicked through numerous pages that Yunho wished he could see. 

“I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not here in our library. I also checked the shared databases of libraries in other districts and there is no such book among them,” Mr. Goh regretfully informed Yunho.

_It couldn’t be…_

While Yunho knew it had been well over a year since he’d last seen it, he was one hundred percent positive that had been the title. He expressed his doubts and attempted to interrogate the librarian a little more, but the man was firm on his rejection and even seemed quite annoyed after the first couple of questions. In the end, disappointed and distraught, Yunho maintained a polite facade as he thanked the man before departing.

This time he did not stop the sickness as it rose from within him, finding sanctuary in the bathroom of a local restaurant. He retched until his stomach was empty and all he tasted was acrid bile, bitter and disgusting, then cleaned himself and his mess up and left. 

Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing felt right anymore.

Jaejoong’s family pretended he never existed. Jaejoong had disappeared from every photo the two had taken together. Hell, even a damn book that Jaejoong had been obsessed with had just fucking disappeared without a trace.

Once Yunho got home, he let his despair flow forth until his face was wet and stained, eyes swollen and nose runny. There was a hole inside of his chest, a hole carved in the shape of Jaejoong’s hand wrapped around his, and it had a festering wound that was slowly, ever so slowly, beginning to spread to the rest of him. 

Yunho couldn’t keep living like this, but he couldn’t move on either. It was only a matter of time until something gave.

*

A feather-light touch danced along Yunho’s cheekbones, then lower until he felt a damp heat against his mouth and heard a low, affectionate murmur by his ear. “Wake up, you’ve been out all morning.”

_Jaejoong._

Yunho’s eyes snapped open as he took in the figure above him, noting the platinum blond hair he remembered his friend sporting over three years ago. His heart ached.

He was dreaming again. 

Yunho sat up in bed, body reacting automatically as if he had a scripted role while his mind ran rampant. What was he doing again, dreaming of Jaejoong?

Jaejoong was bright and beautiful early in the morning, hair mussed and eyes alight with something so achingly foreign to him that it was startling, but when he realized what it was his heart lurched in his chest. It was love. Jaejoong was looking at him with love in his eyes and passion on his skin. 

“I didn’t think you would be that tired out after last night,” Jaejoond said as he set a breakfast tray in Yunho’s lap laden with his favorite foods. His mouth watered. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry.

“Last night,” Yunho echoed without much thought, a low hum in his throat.

Jaejoong smiled. “Last night was...great. Especially for a first time. Most people don’t have that luxury.” 

Heat flooded Yunho’s face, then his body as it travelled to his belly. The only thing that came to mind was the dream about the girl with Jaejoong’s face and how good he had felt, how amazing it had been. 

“You’re amazing,” Yunho said. “Last night was amazing. I love you.” The words flowed so easily through him.

Jaejoong’s eyes lit up, first with happiness and satisfaction, then with amusement as Yunho leaned forward for a kiss. He tutted, wagging his finger as he backed away from Yunho with a mischievous smile. “Not yet, you have to earn your kisses.” 

Yunho’s lips pursed into a moue of discontent, posture slouching as he widened his eyes to plead with his boyfriend. Something dark flashed in Jaejoong’s eyes, something Yunho barely noticed, before the other was pushing away the food and crawling into Yunho’s lap. “You are so fucking hard to resist, you know?” he said rhetorically, deviantly.

Yunho wasn’t sure how to handle this sudden change, but tilted his head up and requested his kiss again.

“Nice try,” Jaejoong teased, a finger caressing the length of Yunho’s jawline.

Denial. Yunho did not like it one bit.

He was desperate. Something hot and needy and wanting arose with him, something so reverent and precious that he wasn’t sure what to name it but knew it already had one anyway. The teasing pout, the playful discontent, it all disappeared as he was hit by a tidal wave of rife emotion.

“Kim Jaejoong,” Yunho whispered, hands cupping either side of the beauty that was the apple of his eye. Jaejoong’s gaze melted, softened, and he smiled as Yunho said, “I love you. I _love_ you.” 

Saying those words made his heart soar in his chest. He felt like he was on cloud nine. He felt like it was the first, real time he would actually be able to say those words to Jaejoong and mean them. 

It was Yunho’s confession. 

“I know,” Jaejoong murmured, hot breath whispering along Yunho’s cheek. If he turned a little to the right, Yunho would be able to kiss him but he was not able to bring himself to do it no matter how much he wanted that kiss.

It didn’t matter that he knew he was dreaming and he could just as easily take what he wanted, but he couldn’t. His beautiful dream lover had not yet given him permission. 

“You’re so perfect, Yunho. Too perfect. This is why I loved you, longed for you...” Jaejoong trailed off as he breathed sensually, body curling sensually. Predatorily. 

Yunho was vulnerable to Jaejoong as he crawled over him, caged him down. Yunho was vulnerable to the light in Jaejoong’s eyes, vulnerable to his own desires as Jaejoong promised without words to have his wicked way with him. 

Hands were everywhere, under shirts and pulling at hair and scratching deep into skin. The sounds Yunho let out were almost embarrassing in their intensity and frequency, but instead he was proud. Proud that Jaejoong loved him back, proud that Jaejoong could do to him just as Yunho had. He remembered the dream with the girl as Jaejoong rolled his hips and he felt the obvious press of his cock against him and felt himself twitch with interest. While breasts were nice, this was what he really wanted.

He wanted Jaejoong, not some girl with his face.

“Will you let me?” Jaejoong whispered as he slid between Yunho’s legs. “Baby please let me. I need you.” 

“Please,” Yunho nearly whimpered. When their clothes had disappeared he didn’t know, but he wasn’t complaining as their hips managed to find a wonderful rhythm to slide together to. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his cock pressed into Jaejoong, rubbed against his erection and then into his stomach when Jaejoong returned the favor. 

Then Jaejoong was gone, but not lost as he pressed into him slowly. There was no pain. Yunho had expected pain, but all he felt was bliss. He felt happiness and love fill him up with every inch of Jaejoong that slid easily into his body. Jaejoong was gentle as he pulled out and pushed in again, movements slow but the strength of his body obvious against him, until his body fell into a natural movement with Yunho’s. 

Head tossed back, eyes closed, and mouth open as cries of pleasure filled the silence between them. He heard Jaejoong’s hot, heavy breaths just as much as he felt them on his throat, a tongue following until he could nibble along the shell of Yunho’s ear.

“Please,” Yunho begged again. He wanted nothing more than to feel Jaejoong’s kiss. He had been given everything else but and now he was a starved man driven mad by his hunger. He wanted and wanted, but with a quiet murmur, Jaejoong denied him again with a harsh bite along the column of his throat. 

Yunho came with a shout and spilled between their bodies.

Then he woke up.

*

“Yunho, are you doing okay?” 

No, he wasn’t. He was tired and irritable and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. If Yunho didn’t know any better, he’d have said he didn’t get a wink of sleep last night because that was exactly how he felt. He wasn’t just tired – he had gone past tired and landed on exhausted. It was hard enough to hold up his head and keep his eyes open, never mind being able to get up and move.

A mug of coffee sat in front of him, untouched, but horribly tempting. 

“I don’t know,” Yunho admitted after several long moments of staring intently at the drink. 

The person across from him hummed and pushed the cup toward him. “You need it, you look dead.”

“Thanks, Yoochun,” Yunho managed to murmur.

Park Yoochun, his cousin by marriage for the past seven years of his life. The two had always been aware of each other in their lives but they had run in different social circles. Yunho had always been with Jaejoong, and together the two of them had worked hard together for their studies. Yoochun, on the other hand, had always been a bit of a lazy character and had never applied himself as much as he could have. But when Yunho’s uncle had remarried the lovely Mrs. Park and adopted her two sons in lieu of their dead father – suicide, as the tragedy went – they had become family. One thing they had in common was family came first, and without Yoochun, Yunho would have been jobless and hopeless as he waited for graduate schools to review his application.

Yunho reached for the steaming mug and took a gulp, the scalding liquid burning in his mouth and his throat as he forced it down. He coughed, eyes watering, but managed to hold himself together. Yoochun spared him a sympathetic glance but made no move to console him.

“So...you slept fourteen hours,” Yoochun casually stated when Yunho’s fit had died down. “ _Fourteen._ ”

“Yes,” Yunho admitted, voice quiet and soft and thoughtful. He frowned, brows furrowed as his mouth pressed together in a thin line. “I slept twice as long as I usually do and I didn’t even hear my alarm. If you hadn’t practically thrown me off the bed who knows how much longer I might have gone.”

Yunho decided he wasn’t going to mention to Yoochun about how nice of a dream he’d been having, a quaint, domestic moment with Jaejoong that had turned sinful and wanting in mere moments. It had been the best one yet and he was beginning to wonder if such dreams would continue. Part of him wanted it, but he also knew it was unhealthy.

Yoochun hummed and went pensively silent. “You missed your shift.”

“I know,” Yunho grumbled. “I’m supposed to talk to Mr. Jin tomorrow morning to see if I still have a job or not.” 

Yunho’s fingers twitched as he reached for the cup again, forcing more of the hot, bitter drink down his throat. Caffeine, he thought. Coffee had caffeine and it sounded like a pretty damn good idea. But coffee was also disgusting.

“How can you stand to drink this?” Yunho spared his cousin a look. “Coffee’s disgusting.” 

Yoochun laughed, the sound low but it was full of amusement and life. “We’ve always been polar opposites over every little thing, haven’t we?” he asked, head tilting as he smiled. The thing about Yoochun was that he was a soft, gentle man with a big heart. He always gave everything of himself, and no matter how much he might have been hurt, he always somehow managed to love too much and too hard. Yoochun was a man of love and he didn’t have it in him to hate. He didn’t know how.

Perhaps that was what made Yunho confess to him.

The words came forth with the force and speed of a rushing ravine, and by the time he was finished, Yunho had had 3 cups of coffee and he could already feel the caffeine buzzing through him. It was a bit too much at once as he sat, jittery and rife with emotion as he recounted his inner turmoil and expressed his fears of going mad. 

Except the dreams. Yunho chose to keep those to himself. 

“It’s been over a year,” Yunho said, hands twitchy as he rubbed the stress lines from his face. “It’s been over a damn year and I’m the only one that remembers him. Even in photographs he’s fucking disappeared.” 

Yoochun appeared appropriately sympathetic, but also confused. “I don’t...remember him,” he admitted. “I don’t remember you being close to anyone when we were younger, except maybe me but that’s not saying much.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Yunho frowned.

“And this occult book...” 

“Doesn’t exist,” Yunho finished for Yoochun. “I looked it up at the library then I went home and searched through the Internet. I can’t find anything on it but I know what I saw. I know Jaejoong was alive and he was real and I know he had that damn book. It’s what started this. Started everything.”

“I believe you.” Yoochun gave Yunho a look that told him he meant what he said, that he cared and that Yunho was not as allowed as he felt he was. 

Really, that was all Yunho ever wanted. 

The two of them talked for a while longer before Yunho thought it was best for him to stop chugging down coffee and to just go home. On the way out he bummed a cigarette from his cousin and found that he liked how the potent smoke dulled the burn of his tongue, curled in his throat, and left a mark of its own. It filled the empty spaces that Jaejoong had left behind.

Just before entering his apartment building, Yunho stopped at a convenience store and bought another pack, _no wait make that two and this also._ He smoked 3 more outside and then decided to burn off some of his energy at the gym. It had been over a year since he’d stepped foot in the complex’s fitness center, something he and Jaejoong had done all the time. They used to have a silly competition to see who could build up the best body, and last time they’d checked Jaejoong’s abs had him winning.

The memory brings forth a bitter chuckle as Yunho works through crunches and sit-ups and lifting weights. It was nearly two hours later that he had exhausted himself to the point he was sore and he knew he’d overdone himself, but he liked the feeling after a good workout.

It didn’t keep the exhaustion off for much longer. As soon as Yunho was back inside the confines of his apartment, it hit him hard and he nearly stumbled over an area rug. Sleep arose in the back of his mind, a looming darkness that did not permit him to think as he crawled into bed. He was out of it the second his head hit the pillow, and just as before, his strange dreams did not fail him. 

Yunho dreamt that he as in a cave, and he could smell the sulphur and the dampness of water as it eroded away. He heard it dripping from the stalactites, felt it hit his shoulders and the top of his head. A small light in the distance gave him just enough to watch where his feet were going, bringing himself closer and closer to it. 

Yunho didn’t know how long he’d traipsed through the tunnel, but by the time he reached the solitary fire-lit lantern his shins hurt from the gradual incline. Before him a wide cavern opened up, vast and echoing with every drip-drop of water from the ceiling. He scented the dampness of limestone and earth and tasted the staleness of the air around him. 

A movement from the corner of his eyes made Yunho jerk to see what it was, lifting the lantern to illuminate what he could of the area. All he saw was a shadow fade into nothingness beneath the flame’s light, and the thought occurred to him that he might not be alone as his heart jumped into his throat. Blood freezing in his veins, Yunho swallowed and pressed forward in the direction he’d seen the shadow.

Something sounded behind him, and Yunho whirled around only to be met with the vague shape of a face before it disappeared again.

Yunho hoped. Yunho _wanted_.

“Jaejoong?” he whispered tentatively, uncertain, and dared not move.

“Speak the Devil’s name and he shall appear before you,” came a low, amused murmur from behind him. Yunho jerked around again, a smile lighting up his face as he came to see the one thing that made sleeping and dreaming worth it anymore.

Jaejoong looked different in this dream, though. He looked pale and gaunt and there were shadows around his eyes that mimicked the smudged smears of kohl. His hair was dark and medium-length, shining with red when the light of the lantern illuminated his pallor complexion. 

And his eyes – they were black as the night. The whites of his eyes and the dark melted chocolate shade of his irises had disappeared beneath this blackness, and all Yunho saw was a reflection of himself in those inky depths.

“Jaejoong...?” 

“Sorry.” The other man blinked and the darkness was gone, replaced with the familiarity and warmth which Yunho was used to seeing. Jaejoong smiled, leaning close like he wanted to kiss Yunho but chose not to at the last second. Instead a hand came up and caressed the sharp line of Yunho’s jaw, then down his neck until his palm settled over Yunho’s wildly palpitating heart.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jaejoong whispered, looking earnestly up at him. 

“I won’t be so long as you’re here with me.” 

“But I’m not.” Jaejoong’s hand returned to his side, and Yunho was helpless to watch as Jaejoong began to walk away from him. Something held him in place, and no matter how much he willed his legs to move, he could not. 

“Jae – ” Despair filled him, choking him with every frantic attempt to breathe. He watched as Jaejoong receded in the darkness, swallowed whole until Yunho was left with his memories again.

But Yunho couldn’t let Jaejoong leave him. He let Jaejoong go once, like a fool, but now that he had a choice he was going to do everything he could to make sure Jaejoong stayed with him. Jaejoong was not allowed to leave again. 

For the sake of Yunho’s sanity, Jaejoong _couldn’t._

Air filled his lungs again, and gasping, Yunho surged forward into the darkness. As fast and as hard as his body would let him, he propelled himself and further still as frigid water sloshed around his feet. He didn’t stop until the cold water was just beneath his knees and he couldn’t feel his toes. He felt empty, as cold and lonely and morose as the water surrounding him, dark and murky as it threatened to consume him.

Yunho fell to his knees and the arctic chill splashed up over his shoulders and throat, seeping past his clothes and skin and into his bones. Everything went numb.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear.

Where did Jaejoong go…?

Yunho was desperate. He searched through the water, arms sweeping back and forth as he hoped to find even a sign that Jaejoong had actually been there. He went deeper until the water pressed into his mouth and against his nose. 

Just when Yunho was ready to give up, to throw himself into the darkness and let himself drown, he saw it: an eerie glow beneath the water. It was dim and a sinisterly dark shade of red, far off in the distance as the water rippled over it. 

Yunho’s heart leapt with hope. “Jaejoong?” he whispered brokenly.

The light seemed to grow stronger with the force of Yunho’s hope, and he let that alone propel him forward. Yunho attempted to push himself to his feet again, but was stopped as something clung to his arm. Whatever it was, it was burning hot against his skin and it made him feel sick to his stomach as dread settled inside of him. 

Yunho tried to yank his arm free of whatever it was, but found himself remaining stagnant in the disturbed waters. Panic rose in his throat, hot and molten as it flooded his veins. He wished he’d stayed away from the water, back along the shore where he still had the lantern to guide his way. He wished he would have stayed still and tried to think rationally instead of diving headfirst after Jaejoong. 

This, this was _terrifying._

“No, no, no…” 

Something else grabbed one of his legs, rendering him near immobile in the frigid lake. Dazed, crazed, and desperate, Yunho searched around him for something – anything – but all he saw was more of the strange bright fixtures, all of them near him. His heart froze in his chest when he was able to see them for what they really were.

Crying out, Yunho struggled and struggled but to no avail. One rose from beneath the surface to his right, and desperate to not see it Yunho shut his eyes hard and breathed heavily through his nose. He didn’t want to see it again, the crimson glow of the grotesque skull but it had since been burned into his retina.

Was this Death coming for him?

Giving a strangled sob, Yunho opened his eyes just in time to see another one rise before him and was thankful his tears blurred his vision. 

“No… No!” 

“Yunho-yah… Don’t fight it.” Jaejoong’s voice was gentle, an echo of hot breath against the shell of his ear. Yunho was still so terrified, so afraid, but one thing he could never do was deny his best friend – his _love_ – anything he wanted.

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” Jaejoong said again, his damp hand petting Yunho’s scalp. His fingers brushed frigid hair from Yunho’s face before slipping down to his neck, grasping tight before shoving him under.

Yunho dreamed of the agony of drowning, screaming and begging himself to wake up. When he finally did, he wasn’t sure if being violently ill was better or worse. 

Sleep still heavy in his mind, Yunho was barely able to make it in time to the bathroom before he vomited everywhere. It burned and ached and left a foul taste in his mouth, and he wasn’t able to stop until he was so dizzy he thought he might fall over and choke on the next wave as it made his stomach painfully empty.

Yunho didn’t know how long he laid curled against the coolness of the bathroom floor as he fought the rising temperature of his body, but when he felt a bit more like himself again he noticed the bruises immediately. The first one he saw was just below his left knee, right where the underwater phantasm had held him in his nightmare. And the other, just above the bend of his right elbow. 

With what little strength he could muster, Yunho crawled to his bedside cabinet and called Yoochun. He would tell him about the dreams this time because everything reached a whole new level of _fucked up_. All he remembered was curling up on the floor again and crying into the phone, begging, pleading, and how Yoochun whispered softly to keep him feeling somewhat close to reality.

The thing about Yoochun was that he had that kind of voice. Yunho thought his cousin would make the perfect father, the right man to kiss scraped knees and sooth haywire emotions with his low bass timbre. It was the same timbre that made him think of quiet nights of happiness and comfort, of silence and solitude, and the warmth of coffee as it breathed life into him.

Coffee.

Yunho laughed at the hazy train of thought his mind pursued lethargically. He didn’t have coffee, but he had caffeine pills he’d invested in and that was so much easier. 

_“Revives The Dead!”_ He didn’t have enough strength to laugh the ridiculous label.

Yunho swallowed one dry and waited, waited until he felt alive again. Waited until Yoochun was there to help him. It couldn’t have been any more than twenty minutes, but for him it felt too long, like he had enough time to slip into unconsciousness again before he wasn’t alone with himself and his nightmares anymore.

“You smell like shit,” was the first thing Yoochun said as he helped Yunho into the shower. “What the hell happened to you, Yunho? Where did these bruises come from? Actually, nevermind. Shower first. You can strip and wash yourself, I’m not your nurse, but I’ll be here just in case.”

“Yoochun, I think I’ve a fever,” Yunho complained as he dropped his soaking wet night clothes into the bathroom floor, relaxing into the warmth of the shower. He wasn’t tired, but he might have been a bit on the manic side.

“I’ll check your temperature when you’re done,” Yoochun promised, turning around to find a digital oral thermometer in the medicine cabinet behind him. He tossed a towel to Yunho when the shower was turned off, then granted him a bit of privacy to slip into a pair of jogging shorts.

“I still feel sick.” Yunho crawled onto his bed, slowly, as with each moment his stomach lurched. 

And he did have a fever, too.

Yoochun coaxed his cousin to eat a few crackers before deciding it was time for them to finally talk. Yunho said a lot of things, some coherent, some not, but he managed to tell Yoochun everything he could think of. He told him about the dreams, about the scary ones, about the sexy ones, and about the most recent one.

He told Yoochun of the betrayal he felt when Jaejoong held him down under the water and tried to drown him. “The bruises… They’re from where I was held in place. How does this happen, Yoochun? How can something I dreamed about happen to me in real life?” 

“Maybe you grabbed yourself in your sleep?” Yoochun suggested, and it was a poor attempt to comfort his increasingly delirious cousin. 

Yunho fit his hand to the bruises, which were too large, then shook his head. “It can’t be,” he mumbled. “I’m going insane, Yoochun. I’m really losing my fucking mind.” 

“Hey, no, don’t talk like that.” Yoochun used _that_ voice. “If you’re going crazy, then I must be too because you’re not the only one who can see these bruises.” 

Yunho shook his head again and his eyes teared up. “I don’t want to see Jaejoongie in my dreams if he’s going to hurt me,” he babbled, sobbed like a man on the verge of breaking down. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sleep if I’m just going to dream and get hurt.” 

“Yunho…” 

“What time is it?” Yunho rolled over to check his clock, a faint smile of relief twisting at his lips. “If we leave now, we can make it just in time and I can talk to Mr. Jin about my job.” 

“No,” Yoochun said firmly. “Look at you, you’re sick. You’re so feverish you’re getting a little bit delirious. I’ll talk to him and we’ll take you to see a doctor. Your job can wait, your health cannot.” 

“Okay,” Yunho agreed. “I’m so tired, Yoochun. I want to take a nap but I can’t.”

“Yes you can, I’ll be right here,” Yoochun soothed, attempting to brush his fingers through Yunho’s hair but the other flinched from the touch. 

“No, I can’t. I took a caffeine pill so Jaejoong wouldn’t try to kill me again.” 

Yoochun took a slow, deep breath and counted backward from 10. Yunho’s fever was getting to him. “We need to get you to a doctor, let’s go.” 

Yunho was able to stand and walk by himself for the most part, though he was still dizzy and stumbled once or twice but Yoochun was there to catch him before he fell flat on his face. Seeing his cousin like this, a usually strong, vibrant man broke his heart. Yunho was a man who loved life, who smiled and laughed and took care of others before he even thought about asking for help for himself. Seeing Yunho so strangely unlike himself ached, and Yoochun felt utterly helpless that he could do nothing for his cousin other than listen to him speak about nightmares and his best friend that had never truly existed. The best friend only he remembered, the one that disappeared from every photo Yunho had ever had of him.

The doctor was just as confused and concerned as Yoochun himself was. The elderly man said it was best to take Yunho directly to the hospital with his fever getting closer and closer to a dangerous point. Yunho had begun to babble nonsensically at this point, his words making so little sense that even the doctor had become gravely concerned.

Yoochun could do nothing but watch as the ambulance took his cousin from the doctor’s office and rushed him to the emergency room. He wasn’t an immediate family member, and even then their relation was only superficial. Yunho’s parents were contacted and he was left by himself to just drift and hope someone would be courteous enough to spare him something.

But they didn’t.

All Yoochun could do was go to work that night with a heavy heart and try his damndest to save Yunho’s job. His cousin was a hard, honest worker and their boss was not an unkind man.

But, in the end, that did little to calm Yoochun’s racing heart and mind. Sleep eluded him until he passed out around sunrise, but it didn’t last for long when his phone going off awoke him. He fumbled around his bed for several moments and just managed to answer the annoying thing in time, all senses alert when he realized it was Yunho’s father that was calling him. 

“Can you get down here as soon as you can?” Jung Yonghwa said as soon as Yoochun answered the phone. “Neither Insuk or I have spoken with him recently so we don’t know what’s going on, and since you two work together…” 

“Yeah, I’ll be down in twenty minutes.” 

Yoochun gave himself enough time for a ten minute shower and a brusque jog to the hospital. He met his step-uncle outside, sharing clipped pleasantries before being lead inside. 

Yoochun didn’t know how much Yunho would want his parents to know, so he tried to share as little as possible. He mentioned them having lunch together one day when Yunho slept fourteen hours and missed work, and then mentioned yesterday when Yunho called him over, feverish and delirious and in need of some serious help.

“He fought sleep all night,” Yonghwa said. “He said he was having nightmares and he didn’t want to dream. As soon as his fever goes down, they will more than likely send him up to the third floor for monitoring and a full psychiatric evaluation.” 

“I see.” Yoochun swallowed the blockage in his throat.

“Anyway, he’s sleeping in here – finally. Insuk went to get breakfast in the cafeteria. I’ll go join her then we’ll be back.” Yonghwa smiled briefly at him, but it was a broken, empty smile. He was terrified for his son. 

Yoochun was alone with Yunho, who looked like he was finally calm as he slept. He had an IV in his right arm, presumably to keep him either sedated or nurtured. Maybe both.

“Yunho… I wish I knew what was going on inside your head,” Yoochun whispered as he stood before his cousin. Yunho looked considerably paler than before, his skin near ashen though he was still burning hot to the touch. The bruise on his arm had not faded and was starkly evident against the pallor of his complexion.

Yoochun closed his eyes for barely a second, long enough to take a deep, fortifying breath, but when he opened them again he saw something that had not been present before. There, placed just below the curve of his jaw, was a small, bright red-purple mark.

“The hell…?” 

It had not been there. It had fucking appeared out of nowhere.

It was then that Yoochun knew he believed everything Yunho had told him one hundred percent. He had had his doubts before, but now there was nothing but certainty within him. 

This was not normal.

On a whim, Yoochun began shaking Yunho’s shoulder and trying to wake him up. “Yunho? Yunho!” 

The man’s gaze was dark and glassy as he slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at Yoochun. In seconds Yunho’s eyes teared up and spilled over, and he took a deep gasping breath as he returned from whatever fucked up dream he’d been having.

“Yunho? Are you okay?” 

“No.” 

“Are you going to be sick?”

“Maybe.”

Yoochun opened his mouth to say something else, but Yunho’s parents returned and they did not look too happy that Yunho was awake. “Sorry,” Yoochun apologized. “He started moaning in his sleep and thrashing about. I thought he would rip his IV out if I didn’t wake him up.” 

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it seemed to satisfy the Jungs’ unanswered query.

Yunho’s mother, Insuk, was by her son’s side and adjusted the bed so he was sitting up. “Are you feeling alright? Were you having another nightmare?” 

Yunho was slow to answer. “...Yes. Nightmare. _Sick._ ” He lurched forward, and Yoochun was fast enough to bring the bedpan to his cousin before he ruined his bedsheets with bile. 

When they were certain Yunho was finished, Insuk helped Yunho clean his mouth and gave him some water to drink before passing the soiled bedpan to her husband to clean. Yoochun would have found it amusing had the situation not been so dire.

“I’m going to go find someone to check on you.”

Yoochun waited until Insuk was gone and he knew Yonghwa was out of hearing range.

“What happened?” he asked.

Yunho’s skin paled another shade. “Jaejoongie told me he was sorry, tried to show me how much he loved me. It hurt.” Yunho winced as he moved.

“Oh.” 

Yonghwa reappeared again with a clean bedpan, brow furrowed with worry as he saw Yunho wince. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?” he asked.

“No,” Yunho lied. “Just haven’t moved in a while.” 

“When your mother gets back with someone, we’ll see if we can get you out of bed for a walk, okay?” Yonghwa didn’t wait for a response from Yunho before he disappeared outside of the room where he saw his wife talking with a nurse in the middle of the hall. 

Yoochun sighed. “I don’t know what we can do for you,” he lamented.

“Go home,” Yunho began, “go home and in my nightstand drawer, bring me the caffeine pills. Please.” 

Yoochun shook his head. “No, that’s not going to happen. I’m not going to give you something that’s probably making you sicker than you need to be. Do you know how high your fever is? The doctors are worried, and giving you caffeine is probably the worst thing we can do right now.” 

“Yoochun, please,” Yunho nearly cried. “I don’t want to see Jaejoong anymore.” 

Yoochun’s heart wept for his cousin, but he was smart enough to know that this was not the right answer they sought for their strange problem. What he had seen earlier had rattled him to his bones, but that was all he needed to know that what was going on here wasn’t natural in the least. Caffeine pills wouldn’t solve Yunho’s problem – if he kept refusing sleep, they would eventually sedate him.

If Yoochun wanted to help Yunho, he would need to seek out expertise that was a bit more… _specialized_ than what a hospital could ever offer.

Yoochun looked to see that Yunho’s parents were still pre-occupied before he leaned close to Yunho and murmured, “We’re gonna figure this out, Yunho, and I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Staring imploringly up at his adopted cousin, Yunho nodded. “Okay,” he acquiesced.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Yoochun promised, and his heart broke at the panicked look on the other man’s face. Eyes wide, cheeks pallor, and a constant twitch in his throat as Yunho swallowed past the sudden onslaught of anxiety. 

“I’m gonna fix this,” Yoochun promised firmly as he turned around to leave.

He had to, because this strange shell of a man behind him wasn’t the same boisterous, life-loving man that he’d always known. He owed it to Yunho, the real Yunho that he used to be, to bring him back from wherever he had been taken. Yoochun knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. Thinking about where he was about to go made his insides froth with fear, because each minute was another minute closer. Another minute that made him realize how _real_ this was all becoming.

Yoochun never thought he’d be driving to a church to inquire about possessions and exorcisms. Yet here he was, pulling out onto the highway out of Seoul to investigate a church that would likely have no connection to any one of them. Yunho had said Jaejoong’s adopted father was a pastor, didn’t he? But he never specified which denomination, let alone the church itself, and Yoochun didn’t want to take risks.

He didn’t think Yunho could handle it if the father of his (dead? non-existent?) best friend watched him fall into hysteria.

Yoochun drove for over an hour until he made his way into a small town and stopped at the nearest church. It had been almost a couple of years since the last time he’d stepped foot in one, but his faith in God was still strong. Yoochun was not a pious man in nature, but he believed and he had attended church whenever he could, but being a busy college student and working a full time job at the same time had not granted him much free time to do so.

The church was vast and colorful as mosaic windows in Jesus’ and The Virgin Mary’s images shed a rainbow of light upon the empty pews. It was a bit more modern, with a cobblestone walkway as well as other highly decorative relics that Yoochun had not learned much about.

At the foot of an altar, there was a figure crouched over in prayer. Yoochun thought him perhaps a member of the town, but a closer look revealed he was wearing the vestments of a priest in training. 

Yoochun let out a breath of relief. 

When the other was finished with his prayer, he turned around with a warm smile and greeted Yoochun as though they were long-time friends. 

“I’m Junsu,” he said, bowing his head. Yoochun returned the bow. “What brings you here today?” 

Yoochun’s throat dried up as he thought about his cousin and what was happening to him. “I...I need help,” he said, slowly, quietly, voice laden with uncertainty. It was for just a moment, but in that single moment he somehow managed to doubt himself and his convictions before steeling his resolve. 

“God is always here,” Junsu chirped. 

Yoochun nodded. “Junsu, would you… Can you tell me how – ” Oh, it was just so frustrating that his own silliness held him back. “My cousin, I don’t think he’s _possessed_ per se, but I do believe that there is...there’s a demon with him.” 

Junsu’s smile melted into a frown and the boisterous light in his eyes dimmed. “Demon…” he echoed, and Yoochun wondered if perhaps he had stumbled into a church that practiced non-belief in the supernatural and otherworldly. “Father Choi is currently on vacation with his family, but if you follow me to the library here, and tell me everything you know, I will try my best to help you and your cousin.”

A burden lifted from Yoochun’s chest and he let go of a deep breath he’d held within him. “Thank you,” he breathed, following after Junsu as he led him to a door at the far side of the congregation room, behind the altar. 

Yoochun told Junsu everything he knew, starting from the very beginning that Yunho had said was his strange dreams. His dreams of drowning and being forced to swallow, then the sensual ones, and how with each one Yunho’s health rapidly deteriorated. How terrified Yunho was, how he was stuck in a hospital now. He told Junsu about the marks and the bruises, about how he’d watched one on Yunho’s throat blossom right before his eyes.

Junsu absorbed the information slowly as he browsed the aisles of scripture after scripture. “Demons typically don’t have a physical manifestation,” Junsu stared, head tilted to the side. “It makes sense that his appearance would start in dreams. That’s not to say corporeality is impossible, but my studies have led me to believe that it is merely preference.” 

Junsu paused as he pulled out something written in Latin, skimming through a few pages before putting it back. “Anything supernatural is always possessive, and they will always leave marks where they are most visible. This phenomenon is most common among ghosts and demons… Speaking of,” Junsu turned around to look Yoochun straight in the eyes, “do you know exactly what a ghost and a demon is and what separates them?” 

Yoochun shook his head as he admitted, “I’d never given much thought to these types of things even though I knew I believed, but it was something I never considered.”

Junsu pulled out another, this time ancient-looking leather-bound book. It must have been hundreds of years old if the delicacy with which Junsu handled it was any indication. “Ghosts and demons are both the lost souls of humans. Demons have burned in Hell for their sins, spent eternities boiling alive until their humanity is gone and there’s nothing but darkness left. Ghosts are those that refuse to crossover, to enter Heaven or Hell because they’ve unfinished business. Both are considerably powerful given the right cues, but demons are by far a league of their own. 

“A ghost can be reasoned with, but a demon does not care.”


	3. 3

“Yunho-yah~” 

Cracking open his eyes, Yunho was disappointed to see the bright fluorescence of the hospital lights above him. This was not a place he particularly cared to be at the moment, and hell, now that he thought about it, he felt just fine. There was no more pain, no more lethargy, no more delirium swallowing him piece by piece. 

There was nothing. There wasn’t the sound of the hustle and bustle of busy doctors. The monitors he’d been connected to no longer sounded with a steady, pulsing beep of his vital statistics. Alarmed, Yunho jerked up and somehow the sound of the crisp bedsheets rustling made him feel a little bit better.

But the shadow to his right did not.

Jaejoong looked as radiant as ever, this time with bright blond hair that reminded Yunho of their time together as they finished high school then entered college together. Jaejoong had always been a bit of a chameleon, always seeking to reinvent and pamper himself every which way he could. Jaejoong’s last hair color had been a beautiful wine red before he’d fallen ill and it had faded to a strange shade of brown before death had taken him.

Yunho was reluctant to acknowledge it was just the two of them.

“Where is everyone else?” Yunho frowned his query, sparing a none-too-friendly glare to Jaejoong. 

Jaejoong clicked his tongue and stood up. “They’re still here. Or there. But are we? Are you?” He laughed, amused by his own riddles. 

“This isn’t funny,” Yunho hissed.

The cold attitude was like a slap in the face to Jaejoong. His amusement faded and his smiles disappeared. He looked sombre, unhappy, and Yunho reckoned Jaejoong was hurt. “You’ve become so cold to me, Yunho-yah,” he lamented.

“You’ve been giving me nightmares for weeks, Jaejoong. It’s hard not to,” Yunho snapped his reply. 

Jaejoong shook his head, standing by Yunho’s bedside. He tried to reach for the other man and hold his hand, but Yunho would not let him. He jerked as if he had been touched by fire, and perhaps maybe he had been if the darkened scorch mark on the once pristine sheet was any indication. 

“I’m sorry.” Jaejoong’s apology seemed genuine and heartfelt. Yunho felt warmth blossom in his chest because, for the first time, he hated himself for being responsible for Jaejoong’s disquietude. “But it was necessary, Yunho. I needed you to drink from Acheron.” 

“ _What!?_ ”

Jaejoong smiled morosely. “Did you think I was doing this just to torture you, Yunho? Do you even remember me at all? You should be the first person to know I don’t do things without rhyme or reason. There’s always something. I always have a goal in mind.”

Swallowing the thick blockage of rife emotion in his throat, Yunho nodded. “I know,” he said. 

“You should be a little more grateful, I think. I suffered much worse than you have when I went through this journey. I thought I was the insane one and I damn near gave up because I couldn’t take it.” Jaejoong crawled up on the hospital bed, straddling Yunho’s lap as he looked down at him. The position was oddly intimate and brought forth a lust in him he did not yet want. He had questions and he needed answers.

“What the hell is happening?” 

Jaejoong smiled and leaned down, their mouths hovering dangerously close. Yunho remembered that kiss he’d been left wanting and was bereft without, and his mind was left with this thought alone.

“You’re going to die, Yunho,” Jaejoong whispered, and it was a low whisper of sensuality and want and desire that Yunho almost didn’t fully grasp the meaning of what he’d said. 

“What?” Eyes wide as fear settled in his stomach, lust dispersing, Yunho struggled to breathe. 

“Don’t fear it, because I will be here holding your hand every step of the way. It will hurt, and you will suffer, but after your death we will be together. Finally.”

Yunho opened his mouth to speak, but Jaejoong cut him off with a finger to his lips and added, “Don’t question it, Yunho. I’m inside your head. I know all of your deepest thoughts and your darkest secrets. Some of them I knew even before you did.” 

Realization dawned upon Yunho. “The girl with your face – ”

“The girl was me, yes. If you had preferred me that way I would have stayed. It’s one of the perks to being an incubus.” 

_Incubus?_

“You – ”

“I gave up my humanity and became a sex demon for you? Why, yes, yes I did.” Jaejoong bristled with pride as he admitted it, and he looked almost human again, just like he was alive and beautiful and Yunho _wanted_ that more than anything.

“I’m really not going crazy?” Yunho about cried tears of relief.

Jaejoong chuckled. “No, you’re not. Some things were necessary. I can’t quite explain it, but when it happens to you, you’ll understand.”

Yunho couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. He clasped one of Jaejoong’s pale hands between his, and though it reminded him of the warmth of summer against the frigidity of winter, he thought they looked perfect. Yunho splayed their palms together, interweaving their fingers, and just enjoying the simple-mindedness of things that he could not enjoy before when Jaejoong had been alive.

It made a little bit more sense now. Things were still blurry to him, but he felt he was on the right path to understanding everything that had happened to him. 

“I love you,” Yunho whispered, pressing his lips against the back of Jaejoong’s hand. How could he have ever been angry with Jaejoong, his beloved?

Jaejoong didn’t say it back, but Yunho thought actually getting the kiss he’d been wanting for weeks was reward enough. Jaejoong’s mouth was soft and warm and slightly damp, like he’d licked his lips before leaning in. The press of their mouths was light but no less intimate than anything else they’d ever done. 

A chill swept over Yunho’s body as Jaejoong threw the sheets off the ground and pushed the hospital gown all the way up to his armpits just before breaking the kiss. Yunho was dizzy and light-headed, head thrown back as pleasure spun through him so fast he couldn’t see. The heat of Jaejoong’s body above him was like an aphrodisiac, sending hot bursts of lust into his bloodstream. He was hard before he even knew it, feeling the way pleasure crackled along his skin like electricity as Jaejoong rubbed against him, all pale skin and burning heat. 

It was beauty. It was perfection.

It was completion.

Yunho sank into Jaejoong with a low hiss, everything was tight and hot and strangely wet. Jaejoong’s body was pliant above him, back arched as he let out a low moan just as Yunho settled in to the hilt. They had done this carnal dance enough times to know how to settle into the perfect rhythm, finding each other again and again until pleasure blinded them both. 

If Yunho was going to die, he could take it if this is what his Heaven would be. Jaejoong had a way of pulling the most primal parts of him to the surface, like a beast on the prowl, and satisfying it just before he lost his mind completely. 

“ _Yunho_ ,” Jaejoong gasped, hot and wet at the hollow of his throat. His body had grown weary, but he knew that Yunho would take great care of him. And he did, a hand settling at Jaejoong’s upper thigh as he steadied him before letting go, pounding into Jaejoong with all of the force and strength he could muster. Jaejoong whimpered and kissed him again, and it was a feral, messy kiss with tongue and teeth and saliva and Yunho thought it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

It was that thought that made him come, body juddering as he slowed down to harsh thrusts, carrying him through his orgasm. It was by far the most intense. The most draining.

When Yunho came back to himself, he saw that Jaejoong too had come and was licking up the mess with a serpentine tongue that had him twitching with interest again.

But he was tired. The familiar and detested lethargy had settled into his body again, and he was tired. He just wanted to sleep.

“I’ll be back,” Jaejoong promised with a come-covered kiss. Yunho’s head went light again and he swore he’d never tasted anything sweeter.

“You’d better,” Yunho growled, though without any real venom because he was too exhausted. 

“I promise.” Those words were the last thing Yunho remembered.

*

Yoochun had taken a couple of days to himself. First, he needed to absorb the information he’d gotten from the priest-in-training, Junsu, at the church outside of Seoul. Second, he needed to look more into it and gather all of the information he could. This wasn’t an issue to be trifled with so lightly, and he knew he had to watch every which way his body moved. 

When he had his wits about himself once more, Yoochun sped off to the hospital. He heard not a word from his aunt or uncle so he hadn’t the slightest clue about Yunho’s current condition, but he hoped things weren’t getting too bad. Hey, maybe Yunho had drastically improved and had even been released? Okay, yeah, that was wishful thinking, but Yoochun wasn’t going to lie and say this whole mess didn’t scare the fuck out of him.

Maybe it was his own fears that held him back from doing the right thing. Either way, he knew things were about to exponentially worsen and his stagnant hesitation was not helping things at all. 

The hospital appeared dark and foreboding as Yoochun approached it, apprehension clawing at his insides. His steps slowed the closer he got just before walking inside, pausing to take a deep breath, before steeling himself and marching inside. He made his way to Yunho’s room but stopped when he saw his aunt and uncle nearby the nurse’s station talking to a doctor. 

The older man’s mouth was firm with solemnity as he said things Yoochun couldn’t hear to Yonghwa and Insuk, though judging by their postures, it wasn’t good at all. Insuk’s shoulders had slumped, her hand covering her mouth as her head lowered. He could hear her tears before he saw them. Yonghwa wasn’t much better off, though Yoochun gave the man credit for holding himself and his wife together. 

The doctor laid a kind hand on Yonghwa’s shoulder before he departed, head lowered. Delivering terrible news all of the time could never be easy, Yoochun presumed.

“What’s going on?” Yoochun asked as soon as he was close enough to talk quietly to them.

Insuk spared him a none too pretty glance full of tears as she cried. “We don’t know,” she sobbed. “They don’t know anything and they can’t _do_ anything!”

“Insuk.” Yonghwa brought his wife close to him, fitting her snug in his arms. Watching them embrace struck Yoochun with a sense of being an unwanted third party, but he was on a mission, damn it.

“I don’t…”

“Yesterday,” Insuk sniffled, pulling away from her husband, “yesterday his kidneys started failing. Out of nowhere. No signs, nothing. Just...failure. Today, it’s his liver and the doctor things there are signs that Yunho’s body is attacking itself.

“Yunho has severe lupus that appeared out of nowhere and the doctors don’t know how long they have to do anything before it’s unstoppable.”

Yoochun was stunned. He stood stark still, eyes wide as the information slowly settled within his body. He’d barely been gone two damn days and all of these life-threatening complications were happening to his cousin… Yunho didn’t deserve this. Yunho was a good, familial man and he cared too much about others, so much so that it wasn’t uncommon to see Yunho neglect himself in their favor. It hurt, like a fresh wound to his chest, to think that Yunho was incorrigibly ill.

Did the demon – _Jaejoong_ – have anything to do with this?

“Is he – ?” Yoochun moved to enter his cousin’s room, but was stopped by Yonghwa.

“He won’t wake up,” the man said. Yoochun met his uncle’s gaze and found the one thing he was afraid to see: Yonghwa was broken. He was hopeless. He believed they were already at the end of their rope and all they had to do was jump. 

Yonghwa believed that Yunho was going to die. 

Determination rose within Yoochun. He would try his best to make sure Yunho didn’t die. He was going to get Yunho the help that he needed, and the demon would leave him alone. Yunho would miraculously recover and they would live a happy life of longevity.

“You’re wrong,” Yoochun said venemously. “Yunho’s going to be fine. I promised him that I would take care of him and I _meant_ it.” 

*

“Do you know why the sky is blue?”

Yunho yawned, exhaustion still heavy in his limbs but Jaejoong’s fingers through his hair just felt so _nice_. “Um, it’s the way the color spectrum of light hits the Earth and reflects back to our eyes…”

“Indeed.” Jaejoong smiled at him and somehow, he managed to become the sun and the sole focus of Yunho’s world in that instant.

“Remember in sixth grade when our teacher tried explaining that to us and you didn’t get it? I thought you were mentally disabled since you were the one that had run into me, chasing after that ball…” Yunho laughed at Jaejoong’s indignant expression, finding himself unable to resist the urge to kiss Jaejoong. He felt a little bit more of his strength zap away from him just before Jaejoong pulled away.

Yunho’s brows furrowed. “Does – ”

“I’ll have you know, Heechul told me it was because of bird pee and when it rained – ”

Yunho couldn’t stop his laughter as it bubbled out of him in a fit of contagious mirth, eyes closed and mouth wide open as he remembered their childhood together. Heechul was a sassy, devious little thing and he had taken great pleasure in being one of the eldest as he tormented his younger siblings with fallacies. But those memories were for Yunho and Jaejoong only. It was sacred, the bond they had, and he understood the lengths that Jaejoong was going through to preserve it. At least, that was how he understood it.

Jaejoong had loved his father, loved God, but at the same time, Yunho knew all too well that Jaejoong had also feared them both. Yunho had once been told that a little bit of fear was healthy, but when he thought about it he realized how incorrect that actually was. If you had to inspire a “healthy amount of fear” into those around you, then you were doing it wrong.

Yunho didn’t need to hear Jaejoong’s story to know that he had been terrified by the intense closeness camaraderie. He had probably known what it was the minute it clicked into place, and who knew how long Jaejoong had spent fighting off those feelings because of the fear that had been taught to him.

His laughter quietened with those somber thoughts, and Yunho dared to ask, “Does it hurt? Death?” 

Jaejoong’s smile faded but the light of contentment was still in his eyes. Yunho knew the real color of his eyes were pitch black because, as a demon, he hadn’t a shred of humanity left in him and as the saying went, a person’s eyes were the windows to their soul. But this was how Yunho preferred to see Jaejoong, looking just like he had when they were human, and Yunho didn’t even try to hide the fact that Jaejoong’s blond hair had been his favorite. The soft black he’d gone to right after that was his second favorite, and sometimes Jaejoong alternated between them when he appeared to Yunho.

“I would be a liar if I said it didn’t,” Jaejoong began quietly, “but if you think death hurts, then there is much worse to come. Expect the worst, Yunho. Expect the crippling agony, expect all of the worst nightmares you’ve never even had come true. Expect it, and then maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe.”

In a second, Jaejoong went from pensive to just plain annoyed as he rolled his eyes upward to the ceiling and glared at it. “Your cousin is quite annoying,” he muttered, lips pursed into a frown. “Whochun – ”

“ _Yoo_ chun,” Yunho corrected, trying to seem stern but it was hard when he was trying not to laugh.

Jaejoong let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, he’s annoying and I want him to go away and leave you alone.”

“Wait, what?”

Jaejoong’s smile turned rueful. “There’s a reason I’ve kept you here with me, Yunho. Dying is the worst part of death, but in here you won’t be suffering. If I leave, you’ll wake up and all you’ll know is suffering. I can’t do that to you.” 

Yunho sat up to look him directly in the eyes. “Jaejoong…if what I have to go through to join you is worse, then I need to face this. You can’t pamper me.”

The worst thing about Jaejoong was that, being an incubus, everything he did was charged with a sexual energy that Yunho was helpless to ignore. He turned disappointment into seduction and smiles into puddles of come on their stomachs. All he had to do was move, and move he did, and Yunho could feel himself getting hard as a rock in seconds flat. It was almost embarrassing, but Jaejoong had a way of ridding him of that.

“Fine.” Jaejoong smiled, eyes lighting up as a free hand curled around Yunho’s hard cock to fist him loosely. “But let me take care of this first beforehand.” 

And by “take care of”, Yunho learned Jaejoong meant he would show him all the sinful things he could do with his mouth.

*

When Yunho rose from the elysium inside his own subconsciousness, all he knew was the blistering pain he felt throughout his whole body. He couldn’t tell left apart from right, he just knew that everything hurt so much and for a moment he regretted that he had asked for this. 

“Oh my god, Yunho!” Yoochun’s breathless exclamation reminded him why he needed to do this.

Yunho opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a helpless croak.

“Don’t, don’t. Shhh, shh, just drink,” Yoochun urged as he helped Yunho to a small glass of water that had been placed at his bedside, first removing the oxygen mask that Yunho hadn’t even realized was there. Just how bad had things gotten since the last time he had been lucid?

“Can you understand me?” Yoochun asked softly, grasping Yunho’s hand tight in his. 

Yunho let out sound of affirmation that didn’t quite sound like it should have, coupling it with a faint nod. It brought a small, weak smile to Yoochun’s face.

“You’re in really bad condition right now,” he began. “The doctors are talking to your parents right now because you haven’t been awake since the last time I was here. Your organs are starting to fail and you’ve got rapidly advancing lupus. Your body is...killing itself, Yunho.”

By the end of his tirade, Yoochun’s chest hurt and his throat burned. His vision was blurred from unshed tears and he was rife with emotion, rife with sorrow because there were so many things going wrong to a wonderful man that didn’t deserve it. 

Meanwhile, Yunho felt like he was bathing in caustic waters that had long since rotted away his flesh and were working slowly at his insides. He was in pain, a lot more than he had ever been able to fathom before, and all he wanted was for it to _go away._ Part of him resented himself for asking for this, resented Jaejoong for letting him have suffer through this agony. He felt like a petulant child again, crying over a scraped knee and wanting nothing more than someone to whisk him into their arms and kiss the pain away.

Yunho wanted Jaejoong.

 _Needed_ him. 

Swallowing a deep breath, Yunho attempted to smile up at his cousin. He and Yoochun had not been very close until this had started happening, and for that Yunho would forever appreciate everything his cousin had done for him. You’re a good man, Yunho wanted to tell him, but he found that talking was still quite difficult and made his chest ache.

“Oh, Yunho…” 

Yoochun spared him another resolute smile, turning around to make sure that Yunho’s parents would be distracted for a little while longer. His eyes turned wild and desperate then, the guard Yunho had been oblivious to suddenly dropping to reveal the broken man burdened by Yunho’s truth. 

“Look, I – I drove out of the city and I visited a church. I found out what’s wrong with you. There’s no easy way to say it, but...you’re being haunted by a demon. I know that sounds weird since it’s usually ghosts that do hauntings but, well.” Yoochun sighed, hands shaky as he clutched Yunho’s own hand tight within his grasp.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Yoochun said. “I am going to do what I can to make sure that demon goes away and leaves us all alone. I’m going to make sure he pays for what he has done to you.” 

Yunho had once been a strong man overflowing with life, and now here he was as a mere shell of what he used to be. Yoochun made this promise with himself in mind, with Yunho and his family and all of their loved ones held close to his heart.

Something flashed in Yunho’s eyes, something akin to fear that Yoochun couldn’t quite make out, and he began to shake his head to and fro rigorously. Yoochun wrongly assumed that his cousin was shocked and confused by the news, trapped in denial, and Yoochun fought another wave of tears as they threatened to blind him again. 

“Look, I know it’s weird but, it’s true. I know this is something you’d find in a horror movie, but this is real and it’s happening and I’m going to take care of you. You’re going to live your life and love as you were meant to.” 

Yunho licked his lips and shook his head again, somehow managing to croak out, “No.” _Let me die._

Yoochun’s eyes were sad as he understood what went unspoken. “What has he done to you?” he mumbled forlornly.

 _Nothing,_ Yunho wanted to say. _Jaejoong has done nothing to me that I don’t want._

He didn’t know what the incubus was thinking, but Yunho believed in Jaejoong. He felt that Jaejoong knew what he was doing and that he was doing the right thing by them. Maybe he was brainwashed, but at this point he didn’t care.

Yunho just needed Jaejoong. 

And it was with this thought in the forefront of Yunho’s mind that he let himself go, the screams and shouts and screeching of the background just fading into white noise. His last memory might be of his mother’s splotchy, tear-stained face as the doctors and nurses warred with her flailing body to exit the room, but he had no regrets.

He had Jaejoong.

* 

The two of them were seated on a bench, side by side, overlooking the soothing stillness of the Han River. Yunho had never been here in his life and could not help the natural desire he had to go, if even just once, and the fact that Jaejoong somehow always knew these little things and satisfied them to his best abilities always made Yunho smile. 

Jaejoong was beside him, humming, and he looked as radiant as ever with his wine red hair glimmering in the sunlight, tousled gently by the gentle mid-summer breeze.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” he asked.

Yunho nodded. “I’ve always wanted to come here. It’s better than what I could have ever imagined.”

“I know.” Jaejoong laughed as a flock of birds chirped overhead, their wings fluttering to invisible heartbeats. It was the song of life, Yunho realized, and he’d never heard it so beautiful before.

“Am I…?” _Dead._ Somehow, Yunho couldn’t make himself say it.

“Not yet,” Jaejoong chirped as if the topic of their conversation wasn’t so grim. “Aaahhhh, I have a confession to make, my lovely Yunho.” 

For a moment, Yunho saw his best friend exactly as the person he remembered him as. He saw the life in his eyes, the sunshine in his smile, and the beauty of his existence that Yunho had missed for a long time. Jaejoong came to him in his dreams, that much he knew, but this – _this_ felt real. 

It felt like happiness.

It felt like _love_.

“And what’s that?” Yunho hummed. He smiled as he caught sight of a majestic swan and her trail of ducklings. 

“This isn’t the Han River, I’m afraid. This is the Styx, the River of Hate.” 

When Yunho frowned, the sun disappeared and the world became grey and dismal. While mythology and religion and philosophy was always Jaejoong’s forte, Yunho knew enough to know exactly what it was the incubus was talking about. “How?” he asked, head tilted as he peered at Jaejoong through the darkness of his hair. 

“I suppose I’ve got a lot to tell you that you need to know before we go any further,” Jaejoong started, lips pursed as he rested his cheek against the knee held to his chest, his other leg dangling free off the bench. “As you know, there are many religions and pantheons of deities that accompany each. I was raised a devout, pious man, a Christian, and that I had only believed in one higher power: God.”

Yunho tried not to look taken aback when he saw the darkness in Jaejoong’s eyes, how they went pitch black at the mere mention of anything divine. It scared him, reminded him of the nightmare he’d had when Jaejoong let him drown and that was not what he wanted to think about. Yunho watched as Jaejoong’s mouth twisted up into a wry smile, being reminded that Jaejoong practically knew his every thought as they were both still inside his head.

Usually, anyway. He didn’t think the River Styx existed inside of his mind.

“Each religion has its truths, has the things that it gets right, but there are also many things wrong that are constantly taught as though they are right. The most important thing, however, is that every religion connects in one way, shape, or form to the next. When you can find that connection and follow it to the next, you can more or less solve the entirety of the cosmos.

“As you’re aware of by now, you know that I am a demon. One common misconception about demonkin is that we are thought to be nothing but darkness, thought to be terrible creatures that have suffered and burned for sins they can’t even remember, tortured until there’s nothing left: no humanity, no emotions… This is not true. Demons are entities that feed on emotion, feed on humanity. There are some that are as foul and fearsome as humans tend to believe, but most are not.

“Do you remember the seven deadly sins, Yunho?”

“Yes.” Yunho nodded. 

_Pride. Envy. Wrath. Gluttony. Avarice. Sloth. Lust._

“Demons are not emotionless, Yunho. Contrary to that belief, we actually feel emotions much more strongly than humans. Emotions are...explosive. And we feed from them and their intensity. It’s the one thing that keeps us alive.”

Jaejoong turned to Yunho with a smile, reaching out to grasp Yunho’s hands in his. He interlocked their fingers and pressed their palms together, invoking within Yunho a strange, fluttering warmth within his chest. _Love._

“Do you feel that?”

Yunho nodded again. 

“I can feed from it. Think of it this way: each demon has their own sin, and as an incubus, my sin is lust. But the seven sins is not an exhaustive list, and while sex is my personal favorite way to feed, it is not the only way.”

Jaejoong smiled when he saw the light in Yunho’s eyes, a light that came with knowledge and the understanding of it. 

Jaejoong leaned closer to Yunho, one of his beautiful, light-up-the-world smiles twisting at his mouth. He whispered, “My sin as a human being was always loving you. Not even Phlegethon could burn that away.” 

Yunho’s brows furrowed in confusion, but instead of asking, he lessened the proximity between them until he could kiss Jaejoong. Kissing Jaejoong always made his head spin and his heart soar in his chest, but it also made him weary and exhausted in the worst of ways.

“Oh, Yunho,” Jaejoong murmured, “you shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up to Yunho, eyes too wide and expression timid as he bit his lower lip. He almost appeared remorseful, but Yunho was hesitant to label it as such.

“Why not?” Yunho asked. He had to fight the urge to lean in close and kiss him again.

“Because it’s how I _feed._ Every time that we’ve ever made love, every time that we’ve always kissed, I’ve fed from you. You can’t lie and say that you don’t feel it…” 

“I do.” Yunho frowned. It dawned upon him then, in that moment, that every intimate encounter he’d ever shared with Jaejoong, every time they’d held each other and fell into a rhythm their bodies had become familiar with – every time they _kissed_ – that Jaejoong was literally killing him. Slowly. Softly.

“We’re so fucked up.” Yunho laughed bitterly, shaking his head. As terrible as their situation was – _Jaejoong was a demon appearing to him inside of his mind_ – he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He was already in too deep.

“I know,” Jaejoong said, and this time he was without a doubt remorseful. “I was stupid and desperate in my humanity, but I don’t regret what I’ve done for you. I regret that it has to hurt you.”

Yunho nodded. “How much longer until…” 

“Until you burn in Phlegethon?” Jaejoong shrugged. “It could be days, weeks, hours, or even seconds. But when it happens, you and I will both know.” 

“This…Phlegethon… You’ve got a lot more to tell me, don’t you?”

“In due time,” Jaejoong laughed. 

It was a promise.

* 

Jung Insuk was a woman with strong emotions, it was one of her best qualities, but also a curse in the worst of times. Now was one of them. The only thing she’d known for the past week was a deep, pervading sadness and grief that left her feeling bereft. She did not have the energy to move, let alone eat, but with her husband at her side, he was able to coax her to do at least that much.

But this? This was too much for her to bear. 

Insuk considered herself a traditional woman, she believed that being a wife and a mother was what she was meant to be. She was good at it. She loved her husband unconditionally and her children were her pride and joy, the people that she was happy to leave as her legacy when she passed on.

What Insuk never expected, however, was that her first born would die before she did. It might have been a bit unfair of her to expect to die before her children, to force them to bury her, but this just wasn’t right. Yunho had just graduated college, he had just stepped outside of the next and found that he could fly. He had a whole life ahead of him to discover himself, a whole life to live and to love but yet, here he was.

Barely alive.

The doctors called it a medical mystery that was out of their hands. Yunho had not been conscious in days, and with every passing second, his body continued to devour itself alive. 

He couldn’t even breathe on his own.

It was insulting, the way that the tubes entered his body and defiled it for the sake of keeping him alive, but Insuk would have it no other way. Though with each passing day she felt the despair in her grow, a dark mass threatening to swallow her whole, she had to have this bit of faith to keep her going.

She would not let go of her son.

“This is so unfair to him,” Insuk sobbed, breaths turning into soft hiccups as her sinuses congested. She wiped away her tears, not caring how atrocious she looked at that moment. She’d stopped applying make-up because she knew it would just be ruined while she wept. 

A warm, firm hand settled on her shoulder as her husband appeared behind her. “I know,” he said, gathering her in his arms. 

It had been one week since Yunho had been placed on life support, and the night prior, he had had a stroke that had required surgical intervention. Insuk and Yonghwa could barely stand to look at their son’s once brilliantly smiling face. All they saw was something foreign, too pale skin and bloodied bandages wrapped around his skull. Insuk was no medical professional by a long shot, but she knew that her son had needed the surgery to lessen some pressure on his brain and drain fluid from his skull. It would aid in his recovery, the doctors had promised.

But yet, the woman could not shake off the feeling of sickness swirling in her belly. As a woman that swayed with the push and pull of her emotions, she was prone to ignoring her intuition even when it screamed at her.

This time it was intentional. Her gut told her there was no hope, that Yunho was too far gone and that he would die despite the doctors’ best attempts. That he was already dead and it was her selfishness keeping him from passing on to the next life.

The thought made her angry, and so she stomped it down until it was dust beneath her shoes. She held tight to her faith, grasping tight to the cross around her neck and praying every spare moment she had.

Yunho could not die. It wouldn’t be fair.

The two of them, they had been waiting for hours in solitude for the doctors to return. They had just wheeled Yunho back into the room not too long ago from doing some scans on him. They needed to know if the surgery had helped, they needed to know if his health would improve.

None of them looked particularly optimistic, which made Insuk just want to scream at them. It would be another couple of hours more than likely before they heard anything back, and by that time their nephew Yoochun probably would have arrived. He’d left because he needed to go to work but he had promised to be back as soon as he was done.

He kept his word.

Two hours later he strolled in, smelling strongly of coffee and still dressed in his uniform, looking worse for wear, but he was there and the doctor wasn’t far behind him. Yoochun barely had enough time to eat a muffin before the doctor knocked on the door, entering the room with a file in his hand.

The doctor did not look like he had good news to bear.

In fact, judging by the sadness and pity she saw reflected in his eyes, Insuk knew her worst fears were about to be realized.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Mr. Jung, Mrs. Jung, I regret to inform you that we have exhausted our resources and done all we can for your son.”

Insuk’s eyes burned, her face grew hot, and she sobbed as she fell like a dead weight in her husband’s arms. “ _No_ ,” she gasped wetly. “No!”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor began, and he continued on about brain activities and functions. By the end of his small speech, Insuk was curled up against her husband and sobbing in his throat. Mr. Jung himself looked worse for wear, but he was struggling to hold himself together for their sake. For the sake of their daughter that was currently away at college and could not be present with them. 

“Your son is brain dead.”

The sound of this distraught mother’s agonizing scream of denial would haunt this man as he slept that night.

*

“We’re not in your body anymore,” Jaejoong had told him that day at the river’s edge. It was from there he told Yunho everything else, his story, about the book _Draco Maledicte_ that had led him to another demon of his kind. He told Yunho of his crippling depression and his struggle with his love for God and his yearning for both His and his father’s constant love and approval.

This demon had told Jaejoong a secret: how to become a demon. Most people did not ask for such a thing, but by this time Jaejoong had become so warped with his strange ideals and his obscene phantasmagoria that, to him, it had been the only logical option at the time. 

Jaejoong was the first person to ever ask to become a demon, the first person to ever set out with the intention of actually damning his soul for eternity. “It’s not a bad life,” the demon had laughed. “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” 

There were rivers – a total of five, most commonly known by their identities given by Greek mythology. Cocytus, the River of Woe. Acheron, the River of Pain. Styx, the River of Hate. Phlegethon, the River of Fire. Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness.

“Your first nightmare was your journey into Cocytus,” Jaejoong told Yunho. He continued to explain the purposes of the rivers and all that he knew about them. One had to be flighted across the River Styx to reach the afterlife, but one who was polluted by Cocytus and Acheron would sink to the bottom until it swallowed them whole. “Of course,” and Jaejoong had smiled wryly as he said it, “not everyone sees it as that. You don’t.” 

The most crucial step to becoming a demon was the Phlegethon, the River of Fire. It was the closest thing to Hell that Jaejoong had ever been to, with the decades that he’d spend with his humanity burning away until there was nothing left but his sin, the very thing that made him an incubus. 

And all too soon, they were standing at the bank of the river. It was as wide as it was long, looking almost like an ocean, and was exactly what he had imagined it to be: brilliant orange-yellow flames that went well over his head, flickering toward the sky. He felt the heat burning at his skin, a prelude of what was to come. Yunho’s resolve faltered, but one look at Jaejoong – whose eyes had been black for a while now – washed away all of the uncertainties. 

All he knew was the strength of his conviction.

“Time here flows differently,” Jaejoong said softly. “In the one year you had thought me dead, I had already burned for over a century here before I emerged from the flames anew.” 

“Will you wait here for me?” Yunho asked, pressing a palm to Jaejoong’s warm cheek. It was warmer than usual with the threatening heat of the Phlegethon around them.

“I will wait for you out there, because I don’t think I could bear staying here for another century more,” Jaejoong whispered honestly.

It made Yunho smile. He could accept that. 

“Very well then.” 

Yunho marched to the edge, glaring down the precipice into the flames. He turned one last time to look at Jaejoong, hand in hand, looking each other in the eyes. Even if all he saw was the darkness of Jaejoong’s soul staring back at him, Yunho knew it in his heart.

Jaejoong loved him.

“Do I get a final goodbye?” Yunho cupped Jaejoong’s face, bringing him closer. A thumb brushed against the plumpness of a bottom lip, chapped but slightly damp from saliva. He felt the heat of Jaejoong’s breath brush across his cheek, short and shallow as the proximity of their bodies brought forth feelings of want. 

“Perhaps…”

Their lips met in a torrid kiss, breath warm and bodies tingling as their tongues dipped and tasted. It was a deep kiss, a kiss full of want and longing and goodbye. Yunho nibbled on Jaejoong’s lower lip, suckling it into the cupid’s bow of his own mouth before reluctantly releasing him.

But before Jaejoong even had the chance to open his eyes, he fell backwards into the fire.

 

It was a dreary and somber day when Jung Insuk awoke to the incessant beeping of her son’s life-support – he was gone before she was ready to say goodbye.

 

*        *        *

 

and when we fall into d e s p a i r  
i know i’ll make it through  
just to see you standing there  
to catch me, as i fall into r u i n

 

*        *        *

 

Even as a human being, one of his favorite past times had been to look out of his bedroom window and stare at the midnight horizon. Living in Seoul had not granted him much opportunity to see the stars as they were meant to, but on nights like these, he could look at the bustling night life looming above them and pretend every light he saw was a star of its own. 

A disturbance in the air – a flutter of wind against the bare nape of his neck, of heat and lust and want – before arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jaejoong smiled as he leaned back against the sturdy heat of Yunho’s frame, turning his head to capture Yunho’s perfect mouth in a hot kiss.

“You’re late.” He pouted like a petulant child, a discontented moue that Yunho kissed away. 

“Sorry.” Not sorry, Jaejoong translated. “I had to make sure my family was okay.” 

Jaejoong fought the urge to roll his eyes skyward, instead pulling away enough to turn and face Yunho before they were embracing each other once more. “Your mother had to see counselling after your death, but they are otherwise recovering just fine. Are you sure you don’t want them to forget?”

“They will eventually.” 

Yunho’s words brought a smile to Jaejoong’s lips, and he laughed before burying his face in the hollow of his throat. He took a deep breath and inhaled the must of fire and the spice of Yunho’s demon, of his sex and want. It made him hard and tremble in his pants, but not yet. They had an entire eternity together to do whatever they wanted, there would always be time for sex. 

“Does it still hurt?” Jaejoong whispered, unable to resist letting the flat of his tongue burn into Yunho’s throat. He smelled of temptation and sin and tasted like ambrosia. It was almost enough to make him bust in his own pants.

“No,” Yunho said, voice quiet. He’d spent over a hundred and twenty years burning in the Phlegethon, of reliving the nightmares he’d never had and creating new ones. The physical scars had been melted away and burned into his flesh to be melted once again, leaving only the memories he hoped would fade with time.

“Come on.” Jaejoong grasped Yunho’s hand tight, pulling him away from the embankment of the Han River. “We’ve got nothing but time on our side. What should we do first?” 

_Luxuria._

As incubi, it was the very thing that made them what they were. But Yunho had long since learned that lust, as a sin, did not strictly refer to sex. Lust was desire and want in its purest form, a constant thirst and need that would quickly consume them if they did not feed it. It was ardent, passionate – craving in its most basic form.

At that moment, the only thing Yunho lusted for was to experience the life he had lost. 

Lips quirking upward, he rested a hand above where Jaejoong’s beating heart would have been if he still had one. “I want to swim,” he said, and his mouth twisted into laughter when he pushed the stunned incubus away from him and watched as he fell backward, wide-eyed with shock, into the frigid waters with a heavy splash. 

Yunho laughed and dived in behind him, bringing Jaejoong for a cold and wet kiss once they had both surfaced. The still waters of the river had drenched them to the bone and Jaejoong’s mop of hair hung in front of his eyes, eyes that no matter how black they were, still shone brightly just like the illuminated night sky above them. 

And though Yunho could not see it, he knew that he was the star of Jaejoong’s eyes. 

“Feel better?” Jaejoong grumped, throwing his soaked bangs over his head so he could see.

“Perfect.” Yunho grinned. 

They swam for what could have been hours in the still of the night, wrestling and doing other silly things they wished they could have done as humans. No one was there to judge them because there were already damned, but so long as they had each other then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

They made love twice, the first time when Yunho pressed Jaejoong into the dewy grass as the sun began to peek over the horizon, spreading him wide and sinking deep into him in one fluid movement. It was beautiful, the way the first rays of sunlight glittered off the water on Jaejoong’s skin, on his eyelashes, and how breathless he became when Yunho made him come between them. Jaejoong was far too eager to return the favor, leading to a second romp where they met the sun and the birds and the stray critters running about. A small chipmunk had nearly trampled over them, which left Yunho laughing and Jaejoong throwing a wildflower at him in revenge.

They were happy.

“Let’s go on a date,” Jaejoong said, head tilted coquettishly to the side. Yunho watched as Jaejoong’s body transitioned from sturdy, muscular, and thick to slim and petite with curves, dark curls falling to the small of her back. 

While Yunho much preferred Jaejoong as he was, he wouldn’t deny his sick urge to spread her open an devour her until she came screaming.

A lascivious smile twisted at Yunho’s mouth. 

“Let’s.” 

And this was the beginning of their eternity.


End file.
